


upon the north

by mintyfreshness



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Dragons, Edwardian Period, Multi, Mutual Pining, Obviously there are dragons, Reincarnation, Whump, but spoliers, politics n crap, there are more characters to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2020-09-06 03:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 122,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20284948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintyfreshness/pseuds/mintyfreshness
Summary: On the death of his father, Hiccup ascends to the Chiefdom of Clan Haddock and the seat of the Duke of Selkirk, becoming one of Scotland’s seven most powerful chieftains. It doesn’t take long for him to confirm his hatred for power politics, setting him dreaming of new opportunities abroad.Astrid returns to Scotland after six years in Sweden to support her childhood friend in his grief. Tired and frustrated with the restrictions of her gender, she is desperate to carve out a better space in the world for women like her, a world of choice and prosperity.A journey to a new life in the west ends in disaster when their travelling party is shipwrecked on an island in the north Atlantic with ties to their clan’s history. A thousand-year-old secret is rediscovered. Berk’s history with dragons begins anew.But it is 1907. Tension is brewing across Europe, with a myriad of individual yet intertwined disputes on the brink of tipping over into full scale continental war. There are others who see dragons in a very different light. And the arms trade is the most lucrative business on the planet.•12/4/2020: this fic is currently on hiatus while I work for the NHS during the pandemic•





	1. and so I set upon the North / to see this Curious Friend

**~ part 1 ~**

**OCTOBER 1907**   
**Northern Canada**

He had known nothing but heat, ever since he was a boy. Summer after summer spent in the baking warmth, the sun heavy on his skin, where even the slightest breeze of cold air or a dip into a nearby lake was a gift sent from God. Even their winters had been warm more than cold, their clothes designed to let air move around rather than restrict and insulate.

In the frozen tundra of northern Québec, Gideon Kemp would have given anything to feel the oppressive heat of the Carolinian sun on his back once again.

Two men had died since they had departed Montréal. One had simply missed a step in the heavy snow and fallen into the river – gone in a second in the gushing rapids, nothing anyone could do but collect their thoughts and keep on moving. But it had taken days for the cold to take the other. At first, he simply lagged at the back while they walked every day, slowing the pace of their march. Then he had stopped eating, unwilling to expend the energy even to remove his gloves and raise his spoon to his mouth. And then the next day, they went to rouse him and could not.

The dead man’s boots now warmed Gideon’s feet, who found the quality of them far superior to his own, which had been hastily bought in a small village in New England as the snow set in several weeks prior. That they fit him so well was a lucky thing, because there was no word from their guides, nor Zacharias, the man leading this expedition, about how much further they would have to walk to get… wherever it was they were going. Gideon didn’t know their destination; neither did the rest of the group that had been accrued on their travels up from the southern states. Had it been anyone but Zach who had told him about their destination, he would have simply laughed; had done so, initially. _Fairy tales_, he’d scoffed, sat on his porch one night under the moon as they’d discussed their possible venture. _Stories to tell our children_. But Zach had been to the north after the war and had returned with great promises of what lay at the far north-eastern reaches of their continent – and in all the time they had known each other he had never lied to Gideon.

A fact he was starting to doubt. Weeks of trekking through the biting winds of winter to an indeterminate destination based on the unfalsifiable promise of one man was wont to do that to a person.

But he had no option but to keep moving. He had already learned the price of inertia, both from the fingers he’d unwittingly lost to the cold their first week in the north and the shrapnel still in his shoulder he’d been gifted by a Spanish man during the war. Move, or be moved. Kill, or be killed.

There was a reason Gideon was risking his life on this expedition, and it wasn’t mere curiosity.

Ahead, Zacharias and the guide slowed to a halt at what looked like the crest of a hill. While the other members of their expedition took the opportunity to sling their heavy packs off and down some much-needed sustenance, Gideon shoved his way to the front of the line, to where the men stood apparently on the edge of oblivion.

“Tell me we’re getting near to something, Zach.”

His friend’s laugh was so soft that the wind almost picked it up and carried it away. “My friend, worry not. I believe we have arrived.”

“What? This is the middle of fucking nowhere, what do you mean we’ve _arrived_?”

“We are at the top of the valley – what you have come to see is down this incline. Do you think you can manage the last few hundred yards?”

Gideon fought back the urge to launch his fist into Zacharias’ mouth at the snide remark. Though effective at reliving his anger, the short display of violence would not be conducive to his wider aims – and they was far too grand to waste on socking a jumped-up smug bastard. The arms trade was a delicate business – one misplaced word in a seemingly innocent conversation and you’d be arrested and impounded, more often than not beaten to death. He’d seen it happen to others. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

The little light they’d had through the gently falling snow dimmed even further as they carefully descended to the valley floor. While the reduced visibility slowed their movements to an almost frustratingly slow pace, it did have the added benefit of highlighting their destination, as the campfires from the settlement came into view.

At least, that’s what they looked like from a distance.

They were mere metres from the first shack when the screech cut through the air, loud enough to shake the travellers to their bones, rooting them to the spot in fear. It was the cry of a bird- no, a warthog- no, a horse in the throes of death.

No. Something much worse. Something infinitely better.

For a second, no one moved, no one so much as took a breath as they processed the foreign sound, wincing as it was repeated seconds later.

“What in God’s name is that?” one of his companions managed to stutter in the silence that followed.

A great fire bloomed then, highlighting the clouds in front of them like the sun that had long since disappeared below the horizon; grey and orange and purple – all soft colours that had no business illuminating _that_. Because, silhouetted in the sky by the fires that burned behind it, was something that none of them could name, could hardly begin to describe. Great wings the size of a house, scaled ridges down its back, a jaw with teeth that each looked to be larger than a full-grown man…

“That, my friends,” Zacharias turned to the group, a triumphant smile plastered across what was visible of his face, “is a dragon.”

A smile curled Gideon’s lips for the first time in months.

* * *

**Scottish Highlands **

_“…it’s important you learn this, Hiccup.”_

_“But why, **athair**?”_

_“Father. That’s the English word. You’ll need to work hard on your English if you’re to do well in the modern world.”_

_“What’s wrong with Gaelic?”_

_“Nothing’s wrong with it, son. It’s just that English is far more useful to us outside of the Clan. It’s one of the things you’ll need to learn as you get older, if you’re to do a good job as Chief after me.”_

_“Why are so many things changing, father?”_

_“That’s the way the world has always been. We’re always trying to do better; be better. And sometimes we get it right and sometimes we don’t, but it’s the good intent that’s the important bit. You must always remember that our first duty is to our people, to make sure they are safe and happy and provided for. But you must make sure you are safe and happy too, Hiccup. Who knows – maybe by the time you’re Chief the clans will be no more than ancient history. As your Chief, I want the Clan to prosper – but I am your father before I am Chief or Duke, and what I want more than anything is always for you to do what brings you joy. Promise me you’ll look after yourself, even when I’m not here to look after you?”_

_“I promise, **athair**.”_

_“There’s a good lad.”_

_“Father?”_

_“Yes, son?”_

_“Will I still be Duke someday?”_

_“That’s your decision, Hiccup. But you don’t have to make it yet. There’s plenty of time for you to work out who you want to be, what you want to do.”_

_“What if I want to live in the mountains with the dragons?”_

_“Ah, the dragons are long gone from **Alba**, son. But I’ll tell you what – if you promise to go straight to sleep after, I’ll tell you the story again. And maybe, one day, you might be able to use it to find the dragons again and keep them safe. Does that sound good?”_

_“**Tha, athair**.”_

_“Well then…** Ceudan de bhliadhnaichean air ais, bha balach ann air an robh Hiccup, a bha eòlach air na beathaichean sin ris an canar dràgon**-_”

The knock on the door brought Hiccup round instantly, but he fought it for a while – desperate to hold on to his father's voice and image for just a little longer. If he closed his eyes and squinted, he could just about make out a round face framed by ginger hair on all sides, with a mouth that opened to a toothy smile and a deep belly laugh that rumbled through Hiccup’s body and warmed his heart.

But the rapping on the door persisted, each soft tap driving a wedge further between consciousness and his half-dream state, until the image was gone from him and he could no longer ignore the call from the front door. Though who would be knocking at- he checked the clock on the mantle- nearly one o'clock in the morning was beside him. Yawning, and stretching out the crick in his neck that was the unhappy consequence of falling asleep in an armchair, he swung his feet down to the floor and heaved himself out of the chair towards the door.

Each step was heavy, laden down by both the small amount of alcohol he’d ingested and the sheer exhaustion of the day’s events, but he pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door to the manor house anyway. His father had long believed that picking yourself up and carrying on even when it was the last thing you wanted to do was important for a person’s character, and Hiccup couldn’t find it within himself to let the man down, especially not hours after they’d put him in the ground.

He’d lost count of the number of hands he’d shaken that afternoon, the number of times he’d bobbed his head politely in response to dozens of counts of _I’m sorry for your loss_ and _your father was a great man_. When he’d been to funerals for members of other clans, or even one for an elderly member of his own, there had been a whole family stood together in solidarity to accept people’s condolences and comfort each other. Ruff and Tuff had offered to stand with him today, to be his moral support, but custom dictated that it was only the family who could be principle mourners; so he had stood and held his head high and been courteous and polite and respectful until the last person had left and their footprints had started to be covered over by a light dusting of snow.

After that, he had sunk into his father’s armchair in front of the fire and wept until no more tears would come.

Tomorrow, he would pull himself together and go out and meet what remained of his people and look them in the eye and thank them for their support. He would offer his help with their woes, tend to the needs of his lands, see what needed to be done and ensure it was enacted. Until morning, however, he was not Chief Hugh of Clan Haddock, 17th Duke of Selkirk. Until then, he was simply Hiccup, who had just buried his father, the last of his family.

And he had never felt more alone.

The floorboards creaked as he crossed the cavernous entry way to the oak front door, illuminated by only a handful of candles that he _really ought to extinguish and save_, he reminded himself. The guest (most likely his wayward librarian who had left Edinburgh at a stupid time to return home to the Highlands) would be inside in a moment, and then he could finally head to his own bed and let the blissful oblivion of sleep take him. There would be no need for candles then.

The key creaked in the lock as he turned it, and he started talking before the door was fully open. “Fishlegs, **_tha fios agam gu bheil iuchair agad, dh'fhaodadh tu leigeil leat fhèin a-steach_-**” He ground to a halt as his eyes registered the figure on the doorstep – who was blonde, yes, but not tall and heavy-set as he was expecting; instead, she was graceful and beautiful and the last person he’d expected to see today.

“Hello, Hiccup,” Astrid smiled. “It’s good to be back.”

* * *

“…and the boat docked in Edinburgh just before lunch time, but I wanted to try and get up here for this afternoon – to try and catch the end of the proceedings – and they said it would only be a few hours and that I would probably make it. Well, it certainly took longer than that! But I’m here now, that’s the important thing. My only regret is that I missed the whole thing completely, but I couldn’t have moved any faster since I received your letter-”

“Don’t apologise. It means the world to me that you even came.”

Astrid smiled and sipped again from the mug in her hands. “Oh, I’d forgotten how much I missed tea.”

“What, they don’t drink tea in Sweden?”

“They do, but only occasionally. Not by the bucketful like you British do.”

“I’ll have you know it’s our national beverage.”

“I thought that was whisky. Aren’t you supposed to be a proud Scotsman?”

“Oh, shut it Hofferson.”

A companionable silence extended between the two, their gazes turning back to the embers in front of them. Ever since she could remember, she had found great peace in observing the dancing of the tendrils of a fire. Some old wisewomen even claimed that you could see the past and predict the future in the flames of fire burning from the wood of your homeland. That was a load of nonsense as far as Astrid was concerned, but nevertheless, fires continued to captivate and calm her. The same could be said for Hiccup, whose face had relaxed into that thoughtful expression that she had missed so much. The lighting strengthened the contours of his face, raising his brow and nose and cutting deep shadows underneath his cheekbones, giving him an angular appearance that she was not used to.

When she had left Scotland six years ago, they had both been awkward teenagers in the height of puberty, susceptible to oily skin and off-kilter movements. By eighteen, Astrid had grown into her features, and at twenty-one she finally felt a quiet confidence in the way she looked. Her long hair was often swept back off her face into intricate braids, save for a few strands that seemed to reject being pinned down in any manner; all of this accentuated, according to her father, “everything a man looks for in a young and beautiful bride”. She’d explained to him on many occasions exactly what she took issue within that statement. He still didn’t get it.

In no way had she been prepared for the Hiccup that had answered the door earlier this evening. Gone were the chubby cheeks and choppy bangs of his adolescence; in their place were a chiselled jawline and windswept hair that looked just perfectly long enough for her to bury her fingers in-

Time had been kind to Hiccup, it would be fair to say.

And the fire in Astrid’s heart that had sat and burned as low as embers since the day she’d left Scotland as a teenager had felt a soft re-ignition as soon as she’d laid eyes on him again.

Looking at him right now, though, Astrid couldn’t care less what he looked like. She saw the man she she had loved as a child hurting with a pain that is only borne from true and unconditional love, and she had to do all she could to try and relieve his burden. One hand left the confines of the blanket he’d wrapped around her shoulders and came to rest gently on his forearm as she spoke once more.

“Hiccup, I really am sorry about your father. He was such a wonderful man.”

She saw his face fall instantly; the tension he’d worked so hard to conceal evidenced once more across his features. He raised a hand to brush through his hair, before exhaling in one long breath.

“I just can’t believe he’s really gone. I knew I’d be Chief one day, that the Clan would come under my protection, I just… I never imagined it would be so soon. Or so sudden. That’s what stress does to a man, I guess.”

“Was he very stressed?”

“Oh, incredibly so. The last few years, the politics of the clans and our role in the world have been under scrutiny more than ever. With the industrial advances happening in the South, we’re struggling to hold on to our tenants, our clansmen. And those that don’t go to London or Manchester go even further afield, to Canada, to Australia, in search of new lives. What’s left here is precious farmland for what we can still make profit on – cows, sheep, whisky. And that’s before we consider the political situation. There’s a big divide between those that believe Scotland could function as an independent nation, and those who want us to remain part of the United Kingdom. It’s one of the biggest debates, and it never ends.”

“What was your father trying to achieve?”

Hiccup shrugged. “I have no clue. Trying to stay independent and neutral, I guess? Despite our size, we still hold an Dukedom, are one of the Seven Great Clans of Scotland, and that means people are interested in us for the power that it entails. I have no interest in politics, though. All I want to do is carry on tinkering with my projects and make something useful. And of course, provide for what’s left of Clan Haddock, small as it is. Do what’s right by them, be a good Chief.”

“You are a good Chief.”

“My father was a good Chief. I am an inexperienced boy with dwindling resources, and no one left to counsel me.”

“You have me.”

Astrid carefully set her mug down, before shuffling over to kneel next to his chair, taking his hands in both of her own. “I know nothing I say can bring him back, or stop you feeling his loss. And I know you feel like you have a mountain in front of you with the Clan and your seat and all that entails. But you must know that you don’t have to suffer it on your own. I will be here for as long as you need. All of us will, I’m sure.” Her palm drifted up to cup his cheek.

“You are not alone,” she whispered. “You are good enough.”

Hiccup’s hand rose to cover hers, and he turned his head to meet her soft smile.

“Thank you for coming.”

They sat like that for longer than she cared to mention, but when they finally parted for bed, Astrid thought saw a warmth in his eyes that had not been there when she’d arrived. It would be her mission to stoke that warmth until he no longer needed her to do so.


	2. it's just a feeling and no one knows yet

_cw: implicit homophobic violence; homophobic slur (self-reference)_

**OCTOBER 1907**  
**Scottish Highlands**

Unusually for someone who had slept countless nights during the harsh winters of the Scandinavian peninsula, it was the cold that woke Astrid the next morning. The fire that Hiccup had kindled for her in the hearth across the room before they went their separate ways had long since burned out; her breath frosted into the air above her with each exhale. The heart of winter was still weeks away, but Scotland had always been resistant to heat even when she’d been a girl, and there was something oddly comforting about the coolness she felt on the tips of her nose and ears.

Sucking up the courage to leave the warmth of her bed, she darted across the room to grab a set of clothes before heading back under her covers to get dressed. Despite the cold, she felt a thrill at the freedom of finally being able to wear trousers again, now she was out from under her parents’ watchful gaze.

The hallway her bedroom was on was long and largely unoccupied – of the six large rooms, only three were in use, if you counted Fishlegs, who Hiccup said was soon to return from university for the winter. Despite its size, and despite the lack of occupants, Astrid felt no unease in making her way around the house by herself, her feet protected by thick woollen socks as she wandered, letting memory steer her. Here, she and Hiccup and the other children had gathered one New Year's on the stroke of midnight to do their own version of Auld Lang Syne, which had ended in all of them clutching their stomachs on the floor in laughter. Around the corner and down a step, a window seat where she and Hiccup had spent hours one Easter hiding from their parents and counting the sheep out on the lawns beyond the house. A bannister with a missing chunk, an almost imperceptible scuff on a skirting board, a slightly crooked nail. All trivialities to another person; to Astrid, each was a welcome nod to the best parts of her childhood, and a bittersweet reminder that things were so very different now all these years later.

Weren’t they?

Downstairs, she found Hiccup sat in the window of the dining room, gazing absentmindedly out at the frosted valley below with what looked like a large tartan blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The light of day revealed what firelight the previous night had struggled to do – the bags under his eyes from restless sleep, the way he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. And yet, there was such a sense of quiet composure about him. Not confidence, not quite.

“**_Hej_**,” she called softly as she padded across the room. “Did you sleep well?”

His head turned slowly, but even at a distance she could see the smile that brightened his features in response to her greeting. “Astrid, hey. No, not particularly, but seeing the dawn break across a clear sky almost made it better.”

“How are you feeling this morning?”

He shrugged, and she dropped into the chair next to him at the table. “Still feel like crap. And it’s too quiet.”

“Oh, I love the peace and quiet. It’s far too noisy in Stockholm.”

“Is Sweden so different from here?”

“It’s so beautiful,” she smiled. “I like it best at our family’s house at the lake up north. We all go there for a week or two every few months in the summer, and we swim and read and it’s just lovely.”

“Sounds like you’d like to be there all the time.”

“Oh, absolutely not!” she laughed. “It’s too quiet after about three days there. I get bored. And my family can be such a pain in the ass.”

“General family nonsense?”

“Mostly. Although a lot of it is from my uncles, pestering me and my cousins about getting ourselves married all the time. It’s such a load of crap!” She sighed. “But that’s all women get, I suppose. If I could have even some of the freedoms my male relatives have… well, I’d certainly do a lot more with my time than I do currently.”

“The world is changing, you know,” Hiccup smiled. “Women are getting more rights every year.”

“It’s not fast enough!” Astrid moved round in her seat to free her hands. “There’s only one country where we can vote, and it’s just my luck that it’s the other side of the planet. And that’s just one of many issues. I can’t get a job that’s more than being a receptionist. I can’t be a doctor, only a nurse. I can’t get involved in politics, only hand out the ribbons to the contestants. I can’t even choose my own husband without my father’s consent to marry! It’s the twentieth century! It’s time to get this stuff sorted!” She sat back in her chair in a huff.

“For what it’s worth, I agree with you,” Hiccup smiled. “I know we are progressive by even the clans’ standards, but it’s not fair that chieftainesses still aren’t given as much respect as their husbands at the gatherings.”

“Don’t get me started. But I did hear in Edinburgh that there’s even a female chieftainess in her own right now,” Astrid smiled.

“Of Clan Gordon, yes. Though I can’t say I’ve met her personally. I have been a little busy recently.” He gave her a sad smile before reaching out for a hunk of bread that had previously sat untouched on his plate. “Is Scotland very different to how you remember it?”

“Yes and no. But neither change nor similarity is good or bad on its own.”

“That’s very poetic.” He offered her a slice of the bread, now buttered; she took it gratefully.

“Lands this beautiful inspire such poetry, don’t you agree?” She took a bite, savouring the combination of heavy sourdough mixed with the sweet butter.

He smiled softly. “Well made. Not that I could ever write any poetry that could justify the beauty this part of the world seems to produce.” His eyes lingered on her for a second longer than expected. She didn’t think he was talking about _lochs_ and _benntan_ anymore.

“So,” she began in an attempt to divert his attention from her rapidly pinking cheeks. “What’s the plan for today, your Grace?” She used his new address somewhat flippantly in an attempt to get him to smile; she felt pleased when it worked.

He chuckled. “Don’t you start too. As it happens, I was planning to go around my clan, give my thanks for their support yesterday. I know the Thorstons want a hand cleaning out their barn before the heaviest snow sets in. Do you remember the Thorstons? The twins are of an age with us, we all played together when we were little. Their parents both died within a few months of each other last year, so I go and help them out when they need a spare set of hands.”

“As it happens, they’re getting two spare sets of hands then,” Astrid said, reaching over to cut herself another slice of bread.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said quietly. “You have no obligation to them.”

“Well, my alternative is sitting around and doing nothing all day while I wait for you to get back, so given the choice I’d rather put myself to good use. Besides, I don’t want you to be alone today.”

“I won’t be alone; I’ll be with the twins for the bulk of it.”

“And the rest of the time I’ll be there too.”

She saw the faintest of smiles twitch his lips. “Thank you,” he offered. “For coming here, for sticking with me. I… I really appreciate it. You.”

“I know, Hiccup.” She grasped his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know.”

* * *

Their trip around the clan took barely a few hours. Clan Haddock had numbered well over a hundred in Astrid’s youth; now there were barely seventy of them. Hiccup knew every person by name, grasping their hands and sharing his sincere thanks with them. The exchanges were in Gaelic, which Astrid barely remembered now most of her interactions were either in Swedish or English, but even with her small knowledge she could tell that the clansmen respected their Chief greatly. Many tried to offer him food or commodities, but he turned each down with a soft smile and an insistence that he was being looked after well enough. Those that recognised Astrid greeted her warmly, eager to learn about her adventures overseas. The conversation was stunted somewhat, as she could not piece together enough Gaelic from her memory to respond, and most of the clan spoke little English, if any, which meant that Hiccup had to act as translator, slowing everything down.

They finished their rounds not long after midday. Hiccup led them back to the house, where they downed some food left over from yesterday and changed into clothes that they didn’t mind getting dirty. The reason for this soon became apparent.

“You know,” Astrid huffed a couple of hours later, “when I told my parents I was coming back to Scotland, I think they pictured me lounging in a large townhouse in Edinburgh, drinking tea and finding myself a husband. I’d like to see the looks on their faces if they could see me now, cleaning shit out of a barn with my own two hands – and in trousers, no less!”

Hiccup chuckled, slinging a shovel-full of used straw to one side. The barn was almost clean, with just one stall left to empty of used straw and droppings. “The world is changing day by day. Surely the thought of women in trousers isn’t too far-fetched in these modern times?”

“I wish my parents saw it the same way. Alas, I am cursed to be constrained by the roles of my gender.” Astrid gave a dramatic sigh and swung a hand to her forehead in an exaggerated swoon. “Where shall I find my solace?”

“You could always marry me, milady.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she laughed, grabbing an armful of straw and throwing it onto the pile behind them. “I think my family might have collective apoplexy if I told them I wasn’t coming home because I’d married myself off without their knowledge or consent.”

“Especially to a lowly Duke like me.”

“Oh, definitely. God forbid I marry above my station to someone with actual political power and money. And a decent human being at that.”

She sighed, and took a step back from her work, dusting her hands off against her borrowed trousers. “How’s it looking?”

“Muddy. You'll definitely want to wash those before you wear them again.”

Her fist moved to make contact with his shoulder before she’d even fully processed his poor attempt at humour. _Old habits die hard_. “Not me, you muttonhead. The pile of shit we’ve been shovelling all afternoon.”

“I look fabulous, thank you for noticing,” Ruffnut called from across the barn. Astrid had been reintroduced to the Thorston twins only a few hours ago, but despite their peculiarities (mostly Tuffnut carrying around a chicken and speaking to it like it was his own child), they spoke good English and she’d made fast friends with them, the whole atmosphere of joking and messing around feeling just like when they were children. It was good to see Hiccup smiling, able to disconnect from his grief for a little while and enjoy being with his friends.

“It looks great, Astrid, I think we can let the livestock in after we’ve watered it down once more. Ruffnut, you’re always beautiful to me.”

“Awww, thanks Hiccup.” Ruff’s attempt at swinging her hair over her shoulder and walking over seductively was impeded somewhat when she tripped over a bucket and landed flat on her face.

“My sister, the pinnacle of beauty and grace,” Tuff cackled. “No, don’t throw that at me-!”

There was a loud clanging sound as the bucket collided with his chest.

Astrid could hear Hiccup facepalming next to her. “If you two are finished, I think we can call it a day now and head back up to the house for some dinner. There’s still a lot of leftovers from yesterday that need eating that I won't manage by myself.”

“As you wish, your Grace,” Tuff sniggered, dropping into an exaggerated bow.

“Call me that again and _I'll_ throw the bucket at you next time.”

* * *

Dinner with the twins was an… interesting experience, to say the least.

They’d eaten together as children, of course; all crammed round a small table as the adults of the clan dined in the next room on important occasions. But that situation had been diluted by the other children of Clan Haddock – more than twenty in total. Ten years on from the New Year’s where the twins had sprayed a bottle of wine all over the hallway of the manor house, the young people of Clan Haddock numbered less than half a dozen. The call of modern life had seen to that. The last few Chiefs, culminating with Hiccup and his father, had waved off family after family, all seeking new lives in the economically prosperous south – or even further afield to Canada or even Australia – until less than seventy remained on their lands of what had once been a strong tribe of over a thousand. Fishlegs, Ruff and Tuff were the only ones left of an age with Hiccup; almost everyone else was approaching old age, their younger relatives having absconded.

And Astrid, of course.

Who, he thought, was being rather tolerant of their companions’ antics, all things considered. She sat and listened and talked to them about their lives and had only rolled her eyes thirty-seven times (that Hiccup had counted) in response to the twins’ nonsense since they’d sat down.

When the two of them went off into their own argument about something trivial for the third time in an hour, Hiccup took the opportunity to lean closer to Astrid, who was sat next to him.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah. You cook well.”

He smiled. “I can’t take credit for it; Ruffnut did most of the hard work. She’s made a half decent chef out of me in the last few years. It’s a good thing too, or I’d probably have starved whenever Dad was away.”

Something flickered across Astrid’s face too quickly for him to process. "Better than my cooking.”

"I'm sure it's not bad!"

"Oh, it's not _bad_, it's just nothing to shout about. Ruff did a really good job.”

He smiled. “Well, it’s nice to know you’re not amazing at _everything_.”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I out-performed everyone all the time. I like to keep a level playing field, make other people think they still have a chance of reaching my level.”

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. She really was something special, this girl.

Unfortunately, his attempt at a reply was short-lived, cut off by a half eaten bread roll spiraling out of Tuff’s grip in between them. Astrid recoiled, and then turned to face the other two.

“_Oi_!”

The fighting opposite ceased with Ruff’s elbow in her brother’s ear and her foot near his groin in her attempt to grasp the remains of her roll.

“Behave. Or I will hide the pudding.”

“Who are you, our mother?”

“No. I’m worse.”

Astrid’s eyes narrowed in an unspoken challenge to their irritating dinner guests; after a second their positions relaxed and they sat back at the table with the expressions of two children who had just been relieved of their christmas presents without warning.

Hiccup obscured his laughter by taking another sip of his drink.

It was well after nine o’clock before Hiccup managed to gently persuade Ruff and Tuff that heading home for the night might be a good idea; it was another half an hour before they actually left their chairs and headed for the exit in the midst of a rawdy drinking song. Both were so drunk by that point that neither realised that Tuff’s hat sat forgotten on the table by the door, but Hiccup was so exhausted from the extensive period of time he’d spent corralling them to leave that he didn’t have the heart to point it out to Tuff - he could just come back for it later. As the door finally swung shut behind them and their arguing voices faded into the night, Hiccup collapsed against the doorframe in an exaggerated display of exhaustion. “Oh, thank god. I thought my head would never stop ringing.”

He heard Astrid chuckle softly from somewhere near the stairs. “It’s the mark of a good Chief that you keep them around despite them annoying the crap out of you.”

“You seemed like you were ready to murder them at one point.”

“Well, I thought it would be bad manners to commit two murders under your roof while you’re being such a generous host.”

Hiccup snorted and opened his eyes to see her sat a few steps from the bottom, hands loosely clasped on top of of her knees. A quick glance at the clock told him it was almost ten, but he didn’t feel like heading to bed just yet. “What now, milady?”

“Whatever you’d like.” Her smile was soft and easy to lose himself in, and it took him a few seconds to think of a good idea and form it into words.

“I have some diagrams of various inventions that James has shared with me recently; he gets them from his friends in various industries and often gives them to me to tinker with before he sends them back. Does that interest you at all?”

“If it interests you, it interests me.”

He hoped the blush rising in his cheeks was not as obvious as it probably was.

“Alright, then. Most of them are in the library.”

“Lead the way, Chief.”

Smiling, he gestured towards the living room, explaining as he went.

“James brought a batch with him to the funeral yesterday; he thought it might help me to have something to distract myself with for the next few days. He sends them across all the time, so there’s always different things to look at. Sometimes they’re diagrams for big machines like the underground railway trains, or steam ships; sometimes they’re smaller things like clockwork or electrical appliances.”

He strode over towards the table under the window and opened a draw that contained a dozen or so scrolls of various sizes. He grabbed the one on top and unrolled it, revealing a diagram of a train.

“This is a proposed design to replace the current stock on the underground railway in London. The electrification of the lines means they won’t have to use steam trains any more, which will make the air quality much better. I don’t know much about electrics, but I did notice that if you moved this axle fifteen centimetres forward, the centre of gravity shift is so that it actually reduces the drag when the trains are moving through uphill sections of the track and you can shave up to three minutes off of certain legs between stations, which means they can be run more regularly.”

He rummaged through the pile and came up with another scroll. “Oh, actually, this is one I came up myself with a while back. It’s a hookless fastener. There are two sets of teeth that are made to come together by this Y-shaped fastener that can be adjusted as needed. You could sew it into trousers, or dresses. Bags. Anything really.”

Astrid pondered this for a second. “Huh. That’s pretty neat.”

He felt his chest rise a little. “You think?”

She nodded and stepped closer to the table to inspect the drawing he’d created. His eyes travelled down her face, coming to rest on her lips briefly before she spoke next. “If you wanted to put it in a dress, though, you’d have to put an extra strip of fabric over the top, to make sure it wouldn’t rub against the skin. Or be visible from the outside.” She looked up to meet his gaze, biting her lip.

He turned this idea over in his head quickly. “That’s actually a great idea. Thank you!”

“Really?”

“Absolutely! My friend in Inverness will love this!”

“What can I say,” she smiled.

He smiled back for a few more seconds, until he felt he was starting to get a bit weird. His focus turned back to the pile of scrolls in front of him; reaching out, he selected one of the smaller ones and unfurled it across the table, before stepping back to give her room to look. He reached around with his left hand to point at the schematics.

“This is an idea that someone had for an electric toaster, for people who don’t have grills. There are spring-powered slots for the slices, and then smaller electric-powered grills inside to toast the bread. The user chooses how long to toast the bread for using this dial, and then it just pops up when it’s ready.”

“Oh, how clever!”

He snorted. “It’s so simple, and he’ll make hundreds of pounds off it. He’s done a good job of it too, I couldn’t think of any adjustments to make.”

Astrid gasped in mock-outrage. “You mean there is an invention even the brilliant Hiccup Haddock couldn’t improve on? How does that make you feel?”

“My ego is fine, thank you very much. I’m not that self-centred.”

“No, secretly you love the fact that everyone thinks you’re a genius and asks for your help with their stuff.” A shit-eating grin was creeping across Astrid’s face. Hiccup decided he was going to rise to her bait.

“Okay, fine, I’m an egotistical, self-congratulating pompous arsehole. It’s true! Everyone who knows me says so! I don’t know how my head gets in the door, it’s just so big with all the cleverness I have to fit in it.”

“That must be so hard for you,” she pouted, shoulders shaking with concealed laughter.

“No one understands me, Astrid,” he sighed dramatically. “I have no equal. I must channel my genius into my work, lest it be lost to time and humanity suffers for it.”

“You’re insufferable,” she giggled.

“My only solace is pen and paper. It is the only medium through which mere mortals can truly understand my complex thoughts.” He slammed his hand down on the table, which set Astrid off into more laughter. He couldn’t help but join in.

When they both came to a while later, Astrid wiped the tears from her eyes and moved to stand next to the table again. “In all seriousness, this is pretty cool. If you can't cook, this greatly reduces the risk of flames and soot on one’s food. Imagine how much easier it will make cooking for people!"

"The general idea of all of these is to try and make people's lives easier. Technology can be wonderful when put to the right use."

"That's a very noble dream," she smiled, shuffling a little closer.

"Well, I've got to do something good in my life," he replied. "If I can use my privilege to make other people's lives easier, I think I'll do alright."

He noticed then how closely they’d come to stand. With one arm reaching around her side to gesture loosely at the drawings in front of them, the other had shifted to rest lightly on her right hip without him realising it. In turn, she’d edged back until her back was almost flush with his chest, her head tilting into the crook of his neck. If he’d moved his head too far down and to the right, their lips would easily have connected. He was so tempted to indulge.

It was exhilarating having her so close.

She’d come back into his life so abruptly that he could in no way prepare for what would result from it. When he’d written to her to tell her of his father’s death, he’d expected a response in the post a few weeks later, and that would be that. He hadn’t expected for her to turn up in the middle of the night in an almost impossibly quick turnaround.

And, fuck, she was gorgeous. She’d been beautiful when they were younger, of course, but now she was something beyond that. She was tall and graceful and sharp and witty and so kind to him.

How could he not fall in love with her all over again? What defence could he offer?

He exhaled slightly harder than usual in a fight to stave off his growing arousal, and he saw the hairs rise on the back of her neck in response, which did not help in any way. His eyes roamed her face, searching for something that he wasn’t sure about, before coming to rest on her lips, pink and slightly parted.

It took all his reason not to lean down and kiss her there and then. There were about a hundred things wrong with kissing Astrid without knowing if she wanted him to kiss her too.

But it didn’t stop him _wanting_.

And hoping.

Astrid’s breath fluttered a little before she opened her mouth.

“Hiccup, I-”

A hard rap at the door cut her off before she could finish, both their heads snapping towards the front hall. Astrid took a step away from him and Hiccup mourned the loss of the warmth of her back against his chest.

“What is it with people arriving well into the evening at the moment?” Hiccup grumbled as he pushed off towards the door, redirecting his frustration. “Do they not understand that I like being left well enough alone after the sun goes down?”

Astrid giggled softly. “I hope you don’t have any other unmarried young woman appearing suddenly on your doorstep.”

“Don’t worry, it’s probably Tuff back for his hat,” he replied as he turned the key in the lock. “He does it all the- Snotlout?”

Clan Jorgenson had formed around five years after the people of Berk had relocated back to Scotland. Most of the clan had been happy to remain part of the tribe and unite under the name of Clan Haddock, but the Jorgensons, ever a family driven by pride, chose not to remain and instead split off to form their own clan with lands won from the MacLeods further north. Despite this, the two clans remained close allies, most recently when Stoick’s sister had married Chief Spitelout and had their son Scott, or, as Hiccup liked to call him, Snot-the-lout. It rather suited him and his brutish, egocentric nature.

But at that moment, Snotlout couldn’t be further from the irritating prick Hiccup had come to know and tolerate. Stood on his doorstep at night in the freezing autumn rain, his cousin turned to greet him, and as the light shifted onto his face Hiccup saw the bruise blossoming above his left eye and down his cheekbone.

“Hello, cousin,” Snotlout smiled, before wincing and pressing a hand to his ribs. “Care to help your least favourite relative out?”

“Snot, what happened to you?” Hiccup frowned, stepping back to let him pass into the house. “And not to be rude, but what are you doing here?”

Snotlout tried to smile again. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I got disowned, didn’t I?”

“_What_?”

“I got disowned. Ejected from my clan. I’m not welcome at home anymore.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, but _why_?”

Snotlout sniffed and rubbed at his nose. “You know why, Hiccup. Dad found me out.”

Hiccup’s heart broke a little for his cousin, though he’d never admit it out loud.

There was another thing that defined Hiccup’s closest relative. It was something that held much shame in noble families, something that was known but never discussed out loud. It was something that was held in the highest disregard. It was something Hiccup had never agreed with punishing at all, let alone in the violent manner that was expected.

It was the height of cruelty to punish someone for love.

Snotlout swayed on the spot. “Do you mind if we sit down? I’ve been walking all day, and it hurts to breathe.”

Hiccup gestured towards the library; his cousin limped gently towards the chair he usually sat in when he’d visited in the past. Astrid had claimed the other in his absence, but Snotlout made no attempt to greet her, instead falling into the seat and closing his eyes with a moan. His discomfort must have been incredibly distressing if he failed to realise there was another person in the room.

“Snot, I know you’re in a lot of pain, but there is someone else here – but don’t worry, they’re not gonna judge you.”

“Is it Fishlegs? I heard he’d- _ahhh_\- learned to make himself useful. Finally.”

“No, it’s not Fishlegs,” Astrid laughed softly. “He’s not yet back from university, I’m afraid. Although I can be fairly useful.”

Snotlout’s eyes snapped back open, and Hiccup bit back a laugh as his cousin straightened in his chair, clearly eager to impress. In his own way, of course.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt-”

“You didn’t, it’s alright. We’re more concerned about you. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it does sound like you need some medical attention.”

“Does that mean you’re my nurse?” he leered.

Hiccup whacked his cousin lightly on the head. “Behave. Especially since it’s inappropriate behaviour like that that’s had you in trouble before.”

“Fine, you’re right. Sorry, that was wrong of me. I’ve had a bit of a shit day.”

“It sounds like it,” Astrid smiled sadly. “I’m Astrid; I knew Hiccup and was part of the clan when we were younger, but I’m now living in Sweden.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Scott, formerly of Clan Jorgensen, Hiccup’s cousin, disinherited disgrace and your new resident queer.”

* * *

“It’s not okay.”

“I know, Hiccup.”

“How could he?”

“Not everyone is as accepting as you are.”

He exhaled forcefully and turned around to continue walking across the grass. “It’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not.”

“It’s not his fault.”

“Hiccup, can you stop pacing? You’ll wear tracks into the ground.”

He walked a few more paces, then sighed and dropped into an ungraceful heap next to her. She had to bite back a laugh at his overly dramatic tendencies.

“It’s just not _fair_,” he grumbled.

“But you’re trying to make it fairer and that’s what’s important. You’ve taken him in and made him feel welcomed and that means the world to him, even if he’ll never say as much. You can’t change his father’s mind, and you can’t intervene without revealing that you’re giving him safe harbour.”

“It’s not Snot I’m that worried about.”

“The other boy will be fine, I’m sure. He sounds smarter than Scott; I’m sure he’s managed to get himself to safety somewhere.”

“I know. It’s just…” She heard him give an exasperated sigh. “I don’t even like Snot that much. But I wouldn’t disown him for wanting to be happy. Couldn’t. It’s not like he couldn’t ever have a family – you’re well enough aware that he likes women too. Uncle Spite, living up to his name like usual...”

“I know some of what he suffers,” she ventured, smoothing her skirts down. Beside her, Hiccup reached into his bag for a flask of water. “Being a woman is scarcely easier than being a man of his persuasion. The ‘fairer sex’ – what a load of **_skit_**.”

She laughed as Hiccup inhaled most of his mouthful before spluttering all over the grass next to them. “What? A woman swearing too much for you, Haddock?”

“Not at all, milady,” he laughed when his coughing abated. “I just didn’t expect to hear it so flippantly.”

“Is that not the point of swearing?”

“Yes, but the Astrid I remember didn’t come out with… well, that.”

“There’s a lot about me that’s different from the Astrid you remember.”

“Only improvements, as far as I’m concerned. Not that you weren’t great already, just that you’ve surpassed them even more. I mean, you were lovely and you’re even more lovely now aaaaaand I’m just making this worse, aren’t I?” He fell back to the floor in a dramatic huff, hand slinging over his eyes. Astrid couldn’t hold in her giggles.

“I applaud the effort, though. And I appreciate the sentiment, even if it wasn’t articulated perfectly.”

Hiccup emerged from behind his arms and offered her a warm smile, one that raised a shiver down her back despite the layers of clothing protecting her from the cool autumn air. He removed an arm from above his face and laid his hand down on the mat, fingers barely an inch from her own. Tentatively, she watched him stretch out his long fingers until they just brushed against her own, his eyes darting between her face and her hand to gauge her reaction. On feeling the sensation of his skin against her knuckles, she found the confidence to shift her own hand until their fingers interlinked a little.

His eyes came to rest on her face. Specifically, her lips.

“I happen to think you’re more lovely now too,” she managed to whisper.

She exhaled and looked back down at the grey sea below them, fear getting the better of her. “Don’t worry about your cousin. You’ve done what’s right by him. The world just isn’t ready for people like him, like us yet. But we can hope that, one day, it might be a more compassionate place. All we can do is help it along.”

“Even if that means being nice to Snotlout?”

“Even then.”

“I _suppose_ I can tolerate his obnoxious nature for a while longer. It certainly would put a damper on things to throw him out on the street. But, seriously, I’m not gonna kick him out. He doesn’t deserve it. He needs a safe place, and we can give it to him here.”

“That’s the Hiccup I know.”

They sat like that for a long time after, until their fingers went numb with cold. But inside Astrid’s chest, the sensation was far from frosty. Deep within her, a long-dimmed fire sparked into life again. She hadn’t missed his casual use of “we” to refer to long-term future plans; she didn’t think he meant Fishlegs.

In her head, the part of her brain that dreamed larger than the others started to wonder how Her Grace Astrid Haddock, Duchess Selkirk sounded.

She decided it sounded pretty damn good.


	3. there is nowhere else that I belong

**NOVEMBER 1907**  
**Edinburgh**

Hiccup had always hated being away from home, but never more so than when he was forced to do so for so-called Clan business. It had been just about bearable when he’d simply been shadowing his father; now, at his first gathering of the Seven since his accession, it felt outright oppressive. When he heard Fishlegs knock gently on his door to wake him just after seven a.m., he simply groaned and pulled the covers back over his head.

“_Hiccup, you need to get up, you have to be there by eight-thirty and you’ve got to get all your kit on_.”

“_But if I hide under my sheets, I can just pretend it’s not happening, and then I don’t have to go_.”

“_I don’t think that’s quite how it works_.”

“_Oh, look at Mister Smarts over here, he gets a university education and now he knows everything_.”

He could almost hear Fishlegs rolling his eyes. “_I’ll go get the kettle on, shall I_?”

As Fishlegs’ footsteps faded away, he wrestled with his conscience for another few minutes before reason won over and he grudgingly pulled himself out of bed and headed over to the wardrobe, chuntering under his breath in Gaelic the whole time. He’d got used to speaking mostly English with Astrid’s return, but he knew he’d have to do the entire day in Gaelic today, and it was easiest to get his brain going straight away in that language. It was also very therapeutic to swear in his mother tongue, he noted.

Putting his clothes on was a frustrating process. At home, with no one to impress and nothing fancy to dress for, he wore mostly loose shirts and woollen sweaters with comfortable trousers – practical garments to wear for moving around the estate and performing odd jobs for his clan. A gathering of the Seven Great Clans, in contrast, demanded a certain standard of formalwear that he was loathe to adhere to. He took great pride in donning his kilt, a striking tartan of black with red and white hatching, and matching sash, which clasped at his left shoulder and right hip, but beyond that every extra piece felt like it sucked another piece of his soul away. Formal white shirt. Black Argyll tweed waistcoat and jacket. Black hose. Black leather shoes. Sporran. Only his _**sgihan-dubh**_ was a comforting presence, tucked in his left hose. It had been a gift from his father on his eighteenth birthday, a family heirloom passed from Chieftain to Chieftain on coming of age, and Hiccup felt a little better knowing that at least a bit of his father would be there with him in the old knife.

His shoes creaked on the stairs; his footfalls echoed through the largely empty house. He spent so little time in Edinburgh that most of the reason he held onto the place was for Fishlegs to have somewhere to live while he was studying at the university; the rest was for the infrequent occasions such as these where he needed to be in the capital for more than a few hours. That was more than enough as far as he was concerned – the place held no emotional significance for him. The heart of Clan Haddock was in the Highlands if it was anywhere, not the capital.

As was his own.

For the first, and what he firmly suspected would not be the last, time that day, Hiccup reflected how much he wished Astrid was with him.

She’d offered, of course. He’d been close to accepting, of course. It was his common sense that backed him into a corner in the end, pointing out the optics of living (almost) alone with an unmarried woman his age, or having Astrid attend the gathering as his right hand while neither his wife nor even a current member of his Clan. Living like that in the Highlands away from prying eyes was one thing; parading their breach of protocol in the most important power centre outside of London was a different matter altogether. He might not have cared about what the other chiefs thought of him, but he’d have jumped in front of a train to save Astrid’s reputation.

Breakfast passed in a flash. Hiccup tried to drag it out for as long as possible, talking with Fishlegs about his studies and life in the city in a fruitless attempt to distract himself, but the clock on the mantlepiece refused to slow down and eventually the time came where he would have to leave right then or risk being late – and as much as he absolutely did not want to go, the one thing that would be worse than not going was arriving late.

Fishlegs checked him over one last time on the doorstep, before letting him shrug his greatcoat on. “_You look like a real Lord,” _he smiled._ “Just need the fancy red cape and coronet, and you’re all set. Although I know it’s not really your thing. Clashes with your eyes_.”

Hiccup managed a nervous smile. “_**Tapadh leibh**, ‘Legs. Have a good day_.”

He took a deep breath to centre himself and set out into the street. The gathering hall was less than a five-minute walk away. He had that much time to choose the man, the Chief he was going to present himself as – for who he chose today would exist until the day he died.

* * *

The room was as frigid as he remembered, but Hiccup still found himself pulling at his collar as he waited in his chair for the proceedings to begin, his nerves making him sweat unpleasantly.

He went around the room mentally, making sure he had everyone’s names and titles down. To his right, the Earl of Caithness, Chief of Clan Sinclair. Then the Duke of Atholl, Chief of Clan Murray. Earl of Perth, Clan Drummond. Duke of Argyll, Clan Campbell. Earl of Elgin, Clan Bruce. And finally, Robert, Earl and Chief of the Sutherlands. A sea of tartan was spread out around the circle, worn on both kilts and sashes, and draped over the back of each lord’s chair; deep forest green and midnight blue and bright red. And at Hiccup’s seat, his own striking black stood out unique among the rest. Clan Haddock’s tartan was a tribute to their storied history, to the legends of the Vikings of Berk of hundreds of years ago and their most famous Chieftain. The black was the colour of his dragon, the white the peace he fought for, and the red the blood it took for them to reach it. Some said it was the blood of his enemies; those who believed the stories said it was his own, shed in his heroic battle against the tyrant dragon queen. In any case, it had a long and proud story behind it, and it was unique, and no matter what anyone said, no one could take that from him.

Hiccup returned from his thoughts and scanned the room once more, where it become obvious that he was the only one there without a right hand. Every other lord except Perth had his eldest son here; Perth had his brother, who served as his heir apparent instead. Hiccup, being childless like Perth, had the option of inviting another member of his family to attend him, a list which included his wife. He’d half-considered asking Astrid to marry him just so he could have her there, but that question had a thousand things that needed to precede it before he could ask it in full confidence. Beyond that, however, his only living male relative who was not already a chieftain was Snotlout, and he didn’t see that presence being anything other than inflammatory even though Spitelout would not be in the room. He was entitled to be there, of course, but most chiefs only ventured to Edinburgh to observe the gatherings once a year at most. It had lost most of its ceremonial function, but as far as many clans across Scotland were concerned, it remained critical to the practical nature of protecting Scotland from the influence of the English.

The gathering of the Seven Great Clans had begun with the unification of Scotland and England in 1603, when James VI of Scotland had inherited his cousin Elizabeth’s throne and brought the two nations together in political union for the first time. Fearing for the independence of their way of life, the clans across Scotland had gathered together and elected seven representatives from the strongest among them all to travel to meet the King and express their wish to defend Scotland and her interests. The King had respected his people’s wishes and named the chosen seven Lords of the realm, each with new titles that reflected their status as representatives of their people. Many of the titles awarded had gone through changes and various creations as their relative favour with the crown rose and fell over the years, but Clan Haddock’s peerage remained. When the lucky chief had been made the first Duke of Selkirk, their clan had been the largest in all of Scotland; in the three hundred years since unification their numbers had dwindled from well over a thousand to the less-than-one hundred it sustained now under Hiccup’s tenure. Some disaffected chieftains believed this necessitated a change in leadership, but there were strict rules that governed their gatherings, and as long as Hiccup was alive and willing to take his seat, no one could force it from him.

The time of the clans beating each other to a bloody pulp was long over by now.

That was the hope, in any case.

He withdrew from his reverie one more time as he heard Caithness softly call out beside him. The oldest of them all, and the Chief of the largest Clan represented by the Seven, it fell to him to chair these gatherings.

“_Shall we begin, my lords_?”

* * *

It took precisely ninety-eight minutes for Hiccup to conclude that he hated politics with every fibre of his being.

Ninety-eight minutes of bickering and one-upmanship and thinly-veiled (or not) insults for him to decide that he’d rather gouge his own eyes out than sit through another one of those meetings.

As always, the arguments boiled down to one divide: those that believed Scotland ought to remain a part of the United Kingdom, and those that maintained that an independent Scotland was the only future for their livelihoods. And it was a fierce and bitter debate, one that rubbed salt into wounds so deep that they might never be closed.

This had been another function of the Seven. On their formation, for balance, three clans had been chosen who supported the unification with England; three who opposed it at every opportunity. In the middle was an impartial clan, who sought peace and equity above all else. That was the role Clan Haddock had been chosen to play, and one that each chief installed in their successor - do what is just, do not be blindly led, seek fairness above all else.

Which in practice meant that Hiccup, like every Chief Haddock before him, had spent most of the gathering fending off pleas from each divide to join their cause and support their legislation in the House of Lords to reaffirm it on Scotland’s behalf.

On the last few occasions, however, there had been a further issue which required their attention. Those who read the papers knew that storm clouds were gathering across Europe and war felt less like a possibility and more like a inevitability. Their nation had allied itself, first with France and in the last few months with Russia, but few felt that their actions had engendered more safety in any way. Stoick had tried to deal with this unsuccessfully for months. Now, it was Hiccup’s burden to bear.

Presently, he’d have paid any amount of money to never have to discuss it ever again.

“_We have a duty to our people before all else_,” Atholl was currently insisting. “_We should not intervene militarily and risk their lives for someone else. Why should we fight Russia and France’s wars for them_?”

“_Your Grace, you must think of what we stand to gain_,” Elgin replied. “_This arms race with Germany has already advanced our technology leaps ahead of where we would otherwise be. Surely this is something you can appreciate, Caithness_?”

“_Technological advancement is wonderful, yes, and it is always heartening to see the benefits it brings to society as a whole_,” Caithness offered. He was a scientist at heart, with great enthusiasm for modern machinery, especially new electrical devices. “_However, if the cost of this is the lives of my people, I must side with Atholl. Nothing is worth more than them_.”

“_You can’t make a cake without cracking some eggs_,” Argyll interjected abruptly. “_We know from our own long and bloody history that this is the case. If the result is finally beating the Germans into submission, I say it’s worth the price_.”

“_So you will send your clansmen to war to save your ego, then_?” Hiccup spoke for the first time in almost an hour. “_Send them off to die without consideration for their own opinions on the matter? I know each and every man in my clan who would be called to serve if we go to war. How do I look them in the eye and tell them that they are risking their lives for, what- progress for progress’ sake? Inter-continental dick-waving_?”

“_You are young, Selkirk, it’s perfectly natural that you don’t understand these things_-”

Hiccup cut Argyll’s patronising remarks off sharply. “_I understand perfectly, thank you_.” He fought to keep his voice level. “_My point is simply that if our people desire to go to war so much, there will be no need to call them to arms, because they will be there, ready and waiting. But if they do not, I cannot in good conscience send them off to die for something they don’t believe in. I will not_.”

He sat back in his chair, and for a few seconds the room was still as his words were absorbed. His heart hammered from his words, a side effect of the anxiety that public speaking set off in him, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He hoped, anyway.

“_Be that as it may, as my brother is good to remind me, if we do eventually go to war it is not our decision. If the King chooses to do so, we are bound by duty to follow_,” Perth said softly, breaking the silence. “_I fear the reprimands if we were to ignore summons from the Crown_.”

“_Then what’s the point of us anymore_?” Hiccup snapped before he could stop himself. “_The Seven exists to maintain our independence. If we don’t have it, what the point of us meeting like this_?”

“_Exactly, Selkirk_.” Sutherland leant forward. “_Exactly. So perhaps the Lords present might reconsider our place in the Union-_?”

“_Oh, for fuck’s sake, not this again_!” Atholl cried. The conversation quickly descended back into chaos. Feeling somewhat dismissed, Hiccup sighed and sank back into his seat. It was not yet lunchtime, and there were still hours to go before they adjourned.

He didn’t speak again all day, not a single word passing his lips until the door to his house was opened by his friend well after six o’clock that evening. Fishlegs simply chuckled softly at Hiccup’s exasperated “_fuck me_” and helped him load the last of their items into the carriage for transport to the station.

The sun fell slowly below the horizon as they made their way north on the train, and even when Fishlegs had long since fallen asleep against the window, still he fumed about the day’s events. It all felt so utterly pointless, going round in circles so that they could trade insults with each other all day just to end making no progress on anything they were discussing. There were important things that needed to be dealt with before they became legislation, and yet most of the other chiefs seemed more interested in scoring points against each other than actually doing something productive, or in the interests of the people they were supposed to represent.

That was the nature of politics, he supposed, but surely this was not the only option available to them.

There had to be something better than this.

* * *

**Scottish Highlands**

Astrid stayed up late reading by firelight in the library on the night of Hiccup’s return. She’d learnt by now that reaching this part of Scotland from Edinburgh, which necessitated a train to Inverness followed by a carriage, was easily several hours’ journey, and therefore to expect travellers from the capital well after dark on such days. The clock had chimed midnight a while back, but she didn’t feel tired at all. The excitement that had thrummed through her body all day at the thought of Hiccup’s return made sure of that.

It didn’t feel like a month had passed since her arrival. In fact, it was beginning to feel like she hadn’t come from anywhere else at all, so quickly had she slotted back into a life she thought she had forgotten. Granted, when her family had lived here before, she’d not been living in the manor house full time, but at this point she rather thought Hiccup had forgotten that detail too. She kept her own schedule when Hiccup was occupied with business for the Clan that she couldn’t assist him with, but when that work was finished and set to one side, they spent almost all their time together, even though this often included Snotlout and the twins as well. Despite their peculiarities and nonsense that often made her want to pull her own hair out, she got on surprisingly well with them all, something which Hiccup had told her made him very happy too. She could see how he had worried that the old part of his life and the new might not have fit together, and the quiet contentment that resulted from the sight of all his friends in the same place.

And if he was happy, she was happy.

Her gaze fell once more on the unfinished letter on the table next to her. Calling it unfinished was really a gross understatement; the only words she had managed to write were _**kära mor och far** _– hardly a detailed account of her time in Scotland so far. But she couldn’t bring herself to write more than that yet. It wasn’t that she had nothing to tell them - if anything, it was the opposite. She loved her time here more than she could properly articulate.

She didn’t want to go back to Sweden. It was that simple.

Every day here in Scotland flew by with such speed, for she was never bored and rarely alone. Hiccup was a constant presence for her, calming and exciting in equal measure. Had it really taken her such little time for her childhood crush to revived anew? It certainly didn’t help that Hiccup had matured really rather well - of course, she’d seen his grown-up face and how tall he’d become every day, but a few nights ago she’d caught him darting between his bedroom and the steaming bathroom without a shirt and with his trousers slightly loosened around the waist, baring his chest and slim hips to the world, and… well. That had certainly proved inspirational for her insatiable brain that night as her fingers worked quick circles between her legs, and his name was barely a whisper upon her lips as she came again and again.

It wasn’t just how pleasant he was to look at, of course. It was his demeanour, the way he handled animals, how gently he treated his cousin despite there clearly being bad blood between them. It was the way he pulled her chair out from the table for her to sit in every meal time despite her (albeit half-hearted) protests, and how he never took a bite of his own food until she had begun eating. It was their chats by the fire that went on well into the night, and the warmth of his chest and the way his arms felt around her when they embraced before heading their separate ways when sleep refused to be ignored any longer.

But despite the joy she took in being newly in love, the rational part of her brain reminded her that it was incredibly unlikely that that particular tree would bear any fruit. For one thing, Hiccup had shown her the kindness due between two old friends, but there had been few, if any, moments beyond that which she could even remotely consider to be evidence of his mutual feelings. And it wasn’t as if she could ask him. That would be an excellent way to make everything very awkward and ensure her return to Sweden far sooner than she would have liked.

For another, infuriatingly, it wasn’t her choice who she married. She was a single woman in her twenties, and custom demanded that her father agree to any prospective marriage. While they had been Clan Haddock for many years, her father had always had an arms-length understanding of the politics that Stoick and Hiccup both benefitted from and endured in equal measure, and despite many attempts to explain it to him, he still did not quite grasp the significance of Hiccup’s position. There was no way anyone could see her marrying Hiccup as anything other than marrying up, but her father didn’t understand it so her father wouldn’t consent, and that was the end of that.

But Astrid Hofferson had never not done anything in her life that she’d wanted to do. She wasn’t going to start rolling over and accepting her circumstances now. And if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was to play the role of the little girl pulling on her parent’s emotions.

She smiled and picked up her pen (Hiccup’s, really), setting it to the paper. Though it took her longer than expected - her Swedish was a little clunky after a month of non-use - ten minutes later, she had something she thought would suffice.

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_I hope you and the family are well. I miss you all dearly._

_I write to tell you that I am well and thoroughly enjoying my time in Scotland. Hiccup is in good spirits, all things considered, and striving every day to do his duty to his people to the best of his ability. It is interesting and relieving to see him at his work with such purpose; he misses his father dearly, but the presence of his cousin and friends is uplifting for him._

_I find a great sense of peace and belonging here that I realise I have been lacking in Sweden. It is comforting to be back among so many old faces, and I am humbled by the respect shown to me by the rest of the clan, even after so many years away. It would please me greatly to be able to stay here longer than we initially discussed. I am aware that it is within your rights as my parents to summon me back to Sweden, but I ask that you extend me the privilege of a few more months here before I submit myself to the rest of my life in marriage to a stranger away from the country of my birth. If it makes you any more inclined to grant my request, I shall do my best to look for a husband while I am here, and I shall write you immediately if I make any progress on that front._

_My love to you all; I await your reply eagerly._

_Your daughter, Astrid_

She smiled anew as she addressed the envelope and set it to one side. _Women only get the things they want in the world by setting out to get them of their own volition_. Her great-grandmother had told her this at the age of five, and she’d never forgotten it.

Not five minutes after she returned to her book, she heard hooves clacking on the stones and the soft creaking of the wheels of Hiccup’s carriage pulling up outside the door.

Setting the tome down on a table next to the fire, she gathered the blanket she’d found upstairs tighter around her shoulders and made her way to the front door to great the weary travellers.

The handle creaked just as she crossed the threshold into the hall, and she couldn’t help but bite her lip and smile as she saw a familiar mane of auburn hair came through the door frame. It was followed by Hiccup in his formal dress, something she hadn’t yet seen. He must have been desperate to leave after the gathering concluded if he hadn’t even stopped to change afterwards. He had shed the jacket and loosened his collar, though, offering just a sliver of his chest to her eye.

The warmth in her chest blossomed at the look of relief that spread across his face at the sight of her.

“Astrid, you didn’t have to wait up for us!”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t really a lie.

“Hang on one second, I’m gonna go help Fishlegs bring the stuff in.” He took off back into the night and returned a few seconds later with a large trunk that was supported at the other end by a man who she supposed was Fishlegs. He’d certainly lucked out a little in the lottery that was puberty too.

“Astrid! It’s been so long! How are you?” Fishlegs moved to hug her as Hiccup went back out for the last few things.

“I’m good, Fish. It’s great to see you again.” A gush of cold air blew in through the open front door then, and she shivered and pulled the blanket closer again. As Fishlegs stepped away from her, Hiccup re-entered the hall with a suitcase and a hat box, which he placed on top of the large trunk. He turned round and opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as his gaze fell on her, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Uh, Astrid, where did you find that?” He gestured loosely towards her blanket

“It was in one of the chests upstairs. Why, should I not have touched it? I just wanted a blanket to sit in by the fire.”

“No, no it’s fine, it’s just… It’s not a blanket, it’s my dad’s old sash.”

Astrid blanched. She’d known it was the Clan Haddock tartan, but she’d just assumed it was an off-cut that someone had made into a blanket. This was far more significant than that. “Hiccup, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise-”

“Astrid, it’s fine, really. It’s nice to see it being put to good use. Besides, you are part of the clan, you have a right to wear it.”

“The tartan, maybe, but not your father’s sash.”

“Well it’s not like he needs it anymore, is it?” he smiled sadly.

Astrid’s heart sank at his words, and she made to move forward to comfort him at that, but was interrupted by Fishlegs stepping between them to close the door, somewhat oblivious to the mood between them. “I don’t think there’s any need to stand here and freeze to death any longer. Astrid, as lovely as it is to see you again, I really need go to bed. I’ve been up since five this morning. Well, yesterday now, I guess.” He scratched his head. “I’m tired. I’ll sort all this out in the morning. ‘Night, guys.”

“’’Night, Fish,” they chorused, eyes locked on each other. Her gaze didn’t wander until Fishlegs had long since moved out of view and his door had creaked shut upstairs. Astrid stepped forward and reached out an apologetic hand.

“Hiccup, I’m-”

“It’s alright,” he smiled, taking her hand gently. “It’s nice that it’s not just collecting dust. Besides, it looks good on you.”

A warmth blossomed in her chest at the look on his face, and she stood there looking at him with what was probably a really stupid expression on her face for a while until a floorboard creaked upstairs and snapped them out of it. His hand fell back to his side, and she grudgingly retreated hers back into the folds of material. Something in her brain told her she’d just missed an opportunity, and she started berating herself for it.

Hiccup cleared his throat. “Well, uh, I probably ought to make sure the horses get to the stable just round the corner. I’ll take them back down to the barn proper in the morning.”

“Right.”

“Thank you for waiting up for me, I, uh, really appreciate it.”

“Any time.”

Hiccup made towards the door, and then came to a halt suddenly. Astrid was about to ask what was wrong when he suddenly spun around and kissed her gently on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Astrid.” Before she could string a reply together, he darted out the front door and into the night.

Astrid stood stunned, the imprint of his lips burning onto the skin of her cheek in a way she could never forget.

“Goodnight, Hiccup,” she whispered, even after he was long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a couple of housekeeping things from me:
> 
> Scottish Gaelic (pronounced Ga-lic) is linguistically similar but practically different to Irish Gaelic (Gay-lic); I'm using bold text to denote words that are lifted directly from a language other than English, including Gaelic and Swedish, and italics where whole sentences are spoken in a non-English language (I'm a language nerd so please tell me if this is too confusing)
> 
> The list of clothing worn in Scottish formal dress as modelled by Hiccup in this chapter includes:  
\- kilt (skirt made of tartan)  
\- sporran (a small bag worn around the waist, often decorated with tassels)  
\- hose (fancy socks)  
\- sgihan-dubh (pronounced _ skee-an dooh_; a traditional knife)
> 
> thanks for reading! hope it's going down well so far :)


	4. I've got friends, I've got family here

**DECEMBER 1907**   
**Scottish Highlands**

Christmas Day was, as far as the young people of Clan Haddock were concerned, an excuse to eat some great food, make some very bad jokes and get more than a little bit drunk.

None of them went to church in the morning; instead, they had their own celebration mid-morning after Hiccup had given up waiting for Snotlout to emerge from his room and sent the twins in to wake him up; he and Astrid had creased with laughter down the hall at his cousin’s shrieks of surprise. Ten minutes later, once Snot had dried himself off and changed clothes (“those were my favourite pyjamas!”), they gathered around the tree downstairs to exchange presents. Hiccup had worried for weeks about the marked distinction between the basically generic gifts he’d bought for the gang and the much more personal present he’d made for Astrid. As it happened, he needn’t have bothered; as soon as the others had unwrapped their gifts – new hats, scarves and gloves in various colours – Ruff had screamed “SNOWBALL FIGHT!” and the others had taken from the room in a rush to get outside and begin their war of frozen ice.

Astrid just chuckled and settled more into her position on the rug by the fire, giving her the appearance of a long blonde cat. “Do you sometimes get the feeling we’re two parents looking after four wayward children?” she asked, stretching and yawning.

Hiccup snorted. “You only get that _sometimes_?”

Astrid sighed and rolled fully onto her back, closing her eyes and smiling. “Oh, I think this is the best Christmas I’ve had in years,” she said softly.

He sat up a little in surprise. “Really?”

She nodded. “Definitely. In Sweden, every Christmas the whole family comes to our house in Stockholm. There are over fifty people who come, and they’re all there, all day. It’s impossible to get any time to myself. And of course, recently, all my uncles and cousins have been asking when I’m going to get married, suggesting various friends of theirs about whom I could inquire regarding marriage. It’s exhausting. I’m twenty-one, I’m hardly a spinster,” she grumbled. She shook her head as if to clear an image from her mind, before opening her eyes and looking at him directly. “Anyway, how are you doing? It’s your first Christmas without your dad, it must be a little difficult for you at least.”

He sighed and allowed himself to lie down next to her by the fire, but on his stomach instead, propped up on his arms so he could look down at her features that were illuminated softly by the firelight. “I don’t know. I miss Dad, a lot. It’s hard because Christmas was just the two of us for so long; it was one of the days where he wasn’t Chief or Duke first, and he didn’t have anything else to do, he was just… my father. Interested in me.” He looked down at the rug and chuckled as a memory came to the front of his mind. “I remember the first time he gave me some whisky to have with my meal. I thought I was going to be all loud and raucous like other people were when they were drunk - well, like he and Gobber were, really - but in reality, I just ended up falling asleep in his armchair before it had even gone seven o’clock.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

Astrid brought her hands up to her mouth and giggled; the sound made something blossom warmly in his chest. “So yeah, that’s the story of when I learned that I’m a massive lightweight.”

She laughed properly at that, a full chesty sound that had them her on her back with tears streaming down her face in seconds, and Hiccup couldn’t help but join in, gently at first and then when she couldn’t stop laughing, also losing his head completely in fits of giggles. He laughed so hard he started coughing, which Astrid laughed even harder at, which in turn kept him going even longer once the coughing fit had subsided.

After a few minutes, they both calmed down at about the same time, but made the mistake of making eye contact, which set them off anew.

When they finally came to, Hiccup’s stomach muscles ached from all their laughter – as did Astrid’s, if the way she clutched at her abdomen was any indication. Their eyes made contact again, but this time they did not break off into more laughter. Instead, he let his gaze wander all over her face, from the line her tears of laughter had left on her temple to the few strands of hair that hung loose from her braid, simply done today given the relaxed nature of things. And inevitably, he found himself stuck on her beautiful pink lips, slightly parted, and wondered for what felt like the thousandth time what they might feel like against his own.

“I’m glad you’re doing alright,” she said softly. Grudgingly, he raised his gaze to meet her eyes.

“It helps having you all here,” he replied. _Specifically, you_, he thought, too nervous to speak the words aloud.

He watched her gaze descend his face; instinctively, he leant closer towards her.

“Astrid, I-”

There was a loud thwack against one of the windowpanes; they jerked apart so suddenly that Hiccup narrowly missed smacking his head against a nearby armchair.

“Hiccstrid! Get your butts out here so we can come pelt you with snowballs!”

Astrid giggled and rolled over onto her front next to him, crossing her arms so she could rest her head on them. “Do you think we need to go supervise the kids, then?”

Hiccup chuckled nervously. “Well, there’s one thing I wanted to give you first.” He sat up and reached back under the tree for a small box that had been well-hidden by the other parcels over the last few days. “It’s not very big, but I thought you might like something to remind you of home. Both your homes.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow and smiled as she took the box from his hands. “_**Tack så mycket**_, Hiccup, that’s so kind of you.”

He wrung his hands together nervously as she pulled first at the silver ribbon, then at the two halves of the box. His lips twitched into a smile as she gasped at the contents.

“Oh, Hiccup, it’s beautiful! Is that…?”

“A _**linnea**_? Yeah.”

“Oh, did you make this? It’s gorgeous!”

“Remember when I spent a couple of days in Inverness last week?”

“Of course.” Her hands withdrew the necklace from the box so the two charms could dangle in the light of the fire.

“I have a friend who owns a jewellery shop there; she let me come in and use a bench for the time I needed. They’re both silver; the thistle is Scotland, of course, and the _**linnea**_-”

“Is Sweden!” Astrid beamed at him, the sight stirring a warmth in his chest.

“I wanted you to know that even though you’ve not been back until recently, you always have a home here. With Clan Haddock.” _With me_, he added in his mind.

“That’s so lovely.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you so much, Hiccup.”

“I’m just glad you like it. That’s a massive worry off my plate.”

“Hiccup, I think I’d like almost anything you were kind enough to give me.”

The room paused then. He dared not disturb the silence for fear of interrupting the soft smile Astrid had on her face. Instead, he simply gestured towards the necklace. She understood what he meant and handed it to him, turning away and pulling her hair to one side so that he could clasp it behind her. With shaky hands, he reached forwards and brought his hands in front of her face, then to the nape of her neck. The clasp was small and tricky to open, and in his nervousness he accidentally brushed a finger against her neck.

That small touch of her skin was the tiniest drop of water for a man dying of thirst. The feeling sent shivers down his spine, and the rational part of his brain screamed that he had to get away before he did anything he might regret. Cursing his shaky hands, he finally managed to fumble the clasp open and then closed, the necklace draping gently around her neck.

Astrid’s hand came up to touch the cold silver against her throat. “It’s so lovely. Thank you, Hiccup.”

She turned round to smile at him, one hand still resting lightly on her collarbones, directing his gaze to the pale skin of her neck. His mind darted off into a thousand possibilities, but they all shared the thought of taking his lips to her skin and finding out if it was as smooth as it looked.

Against his better judgment, he leant in towards her. “You mean a lot to me,” he replied in a hoarse voice. “I wanted to give you a gift that demonstrated that.”

“That’s definitely evident,” she said softly. She turned more over her shoulder until their torsos were almost parallel, a few feet apart. “I’m very grateful for it.”

“Anything for you, milady.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes fixated on her face, on her mouth. _Please, please, please…_

Another rap on the window broke them apart before they could get any closer.

“Come on, guys, you can kiss all you want later!” Snotlout’s voice was muffled, but still discernible as rather amused.

Astrid jumped away from him, her cheeks pinking in her fluster, before her eyes narrowed and she pushed to her feet, rolling her sleeves to her elbow in determination. “Okay, that is _it_. He is _so_ getting it. I am going to pelt your cousin with snowballs until he cries for his maker.”

Hiccup laughed, hoping the sound didn’t sound too forced. “I would expect nothing less. I will bravely stay out of your way, though.”

“That’s a good choice. I’m out for blood.”

It was all he could do not to tell her he loved her right there and then. Instead, he returned her smile, took her outstretched hand and let her help him to his feet. And then smiled as she stalked out of the room in search of his very-much-in-danger cousin.

She really was completely wonderful.

* * *

Dinner was later than Hiccup had planned; the snowball fight had gone on well into the afternoon after evolving into an all-out war between three factions: Astrid and Ruff, Snotlout and Tuff, and Hiccup and Fishlegs. Each built up a small hut to defend in the lightly falling snow against the others, before setting off to destroy the others’. He and Fishlegs had been so close to winning when a diversionary tactic from Astrid had meant that Ruffnut had been able to sneak in behind them to trash their hut and claim a win for the girls. Astrid and Ruff danced around in the snow in a terrible victory dance, and Hiccup had stood there slightly in shock - though he wasn’t waylaid enough to stop an enormous smile spreading across his face when she tripped over the recently demolished snow hut and emerged covered in splendid white powder and with a great scowl on her face.

It wasn’t his fault, though. Said diversionary tactic had been to pretend to lean in for a kiss, then stuffing a fistful of snow down his back while he froze with anticipation.

Hiccup was pretty sure some of it was still there hours later, making his spine shiver without warning. Or maybe it was the thought of how she’d nearly kissed him, that she’d got so close that her could feel her breath on his cheek. Close enough to see the flutter of her eyelashes and the dusting of snow that had come to rest in her braids and on her shoulders. He was helpless against it, and what was worse, he couldn't even be mad at her for it.

As they sat and ate together, Hiccup stayed silent, turning things over in his mind as he ate. The small smile she’d given him when she’d opened the necklace box; the fire in her features during their snowball war. And the way she looked at him now from her seat next to him at the table as she reached across him for food and met his gaze when one of the others did something worth rolling their eyes at.

Despite everything that had a semblance of reason in his head, he felt himself falling more in love with her every day.

He just had no idea how to begin that conversation.

* * *

“A toast!” Ruffnut called, pushing to her feet in the middle of dinner. “To me and Astrid, because we won! Suck it, losers.”

“You know, I think in the grand scheme of things, we’re all winners-”

“Shut up, Snotlout,” everyone chorused as Ruffnut sat down, before laughing and taking their drinks.

“I do wish it were true, though,” Snotlout muttered as he set his cup down.

“That what were true, Snot?” Hiccup asked, gathering a mouthful of food from what remained on his plate.

“That we were all winners. There’s a lot of bullshit in the world that stops that being true.”

“Oh, I agree,” Tuffnut chimes in. “So much bullshit. But that’s just how it is when you work with cows all day.”

Astrid looked at Tuff incredulously. “No,” she huffed after a few seconds of stunned silence at his stupidity. “That’s _not_ what we’re talking about. At all.”

“Whatever, A,” Tuff snorted. “Pass the carrots, please?”

Rolling her eyes, Astrid ignored him and turned back to the table. "In any case, I agree with Snotlout.”

“Wait, what?”

“I agree. There’s a whole load of crap that stops people being happy and doing what they want and I hate it.” She stabbed a potato to vent some of her frustration. "Women can't do anything without their husband's consent, men like Snotlout get abused in the streets, people of colour can barely open their mouths without being harassed and intimidated."

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just leave here, you know? Just pack a bag and go and see the world, all of us together? It can't be shit everywhere, you know." Tuffnut smiled before attempting to knock back the rest of his drink and throwing it down his front. “Ah, fuck.”

“That would be so much fun,” Snotlout nodded. “I’d love to get out of Scotland.”

“Can you imagine? We could go travelling and go to all the big cities. Paris, Vienna, Rome,” Astrid smiled, getting caught up in the whimsical nature of it all. “We could see a new country every week.”

“Ooh, count me in for that!” Fislegs squealed. “There’s so much ancient history in Rome, Vienna, all the old places-”

“Plus I bet the guys are really hot on the continent,” Ruffnut scoffed, winking obviously at Astrid in a poor attempt at subtlety.

Astrid saw Hiccup smirk before she rolled her eyes. “Not the point I was getting at, Ruff.”

“Just saying. Girl’s gotta get what she needs. What she _wants_.” Ruff posed seductively for the room at large.

“Yeah!” Tuff chimed in. “Wait, what?”

“So, do you learn much about the classical world at university, Fishlegs?” Astrid intervened in an attempt to steer the conversation back to something less… well, Ruff-ish.

“Oh, yes! Most of my lectures are about mathematics and modern literature, but I have been to a few about the ancient world and it’s _fascinating_. There was one where they were talking about the farming systems they established…”

Deep into Fishlegs’ happy, babbling explanation, Astrid’s gaze shifted around the table, keeping tabs on everyone present. Next to Fishlegs, the twins were engaged in their usual hissing argument about something asinine. Opposite the twins, at the far end of the table, Snotlout was picking apart the scraps on his plate, staring into the middle distance as he grumbled to himself about something or other. And at her right, Hiccup, also lost in thought, his thumb coming up to tap against his mouth like it always did when he was working on a big idea. A nervous energy rose in her chest.

“Hiccup?”

Fishlegs had also noticed that their friend was lost in thought. Or maybe he’d noticed that Astrid wasn’t listening to him any more. His question had attracted the attention of everyone else around the table; a heavy silence fell across the room.

Astrid gently laid a hand on Hiccup’s forearm; he started and looked to meet her gaze, his mouth moving wordlessly. Then, he leant forward; the next words that came out of his mouth none of them have could have predicted. “What if Tuffnut is right?”

“Wait, what?” Tuff’s jaw was almost on the floor. “You agree that a wolf could take a moose in a fight?”

“What? No, not that! I meant about leaving.”

There was silence around the table at his words. Then, everyone spoke at once.

“Are you serious, Hiccup?”

“How could we possibly do that?”

“Do you even know which way America is?”

“Do they have moose in America?”

“That’s not important, Ruff!”

“Guys, guys, just listen, okay?”

Hiccup cleared his throat before starting to talk. “What if we could? What if we left Scotland and tried our hand at seeing the world? I know it’s not just that simple, but we could, you know? We have plenty of money in the Clan, and it’s not doing any good just being sat on. The world’s changing. We can make our own rules.”

“What are you saying, Hiccup?” Fishlegs asks.

“I’m saying… I’m saying let’s do it. Leave Scotland and become nomads. Start new lives abroad.”

“You’re serious?” Ruff’s jaw hung on the floor.

“Why not? We’re none of us massively happy about where we are right now. We have the ability to change that, so why shouldn’t we?”

“But what about the Clan?” Fishlegs pointed out. “We wouldn’t be taking all them with us, surely? What will happen to them if we leave?”

She saw Hiccup’s face fall. “You’re right. I can’t just abandon them. Damn.”

A heavy silence extended across the group, the elation of their idea quickly fading. Astrid looked carefully at Hiccup, monitoring his reaction for the moment of inspiration she knew he would have. Sure enough, not twenty seconds later, a knowing smile crept across his face.

“I think I might have an idea.”

* * *

**JANUARY 1908**   
**Scottish Highlands**

The knock on the door came at precisely eleven o’clock on the dot; Hiccup heard his clock finish chiming as he turned the key in the lock. He smiled to himself. James Sinclair had never been late to anything in his life – he considered it the height of rudeness to disrespect someone who offered him the hospitality of their home. It was part of the reason Hiccup got on so well with him. He pulled the door open to reveal the 14th Earl of Caithness and his steward; behind them on the drive was a modest carriage and its single groom-cum-footman. All in all, an understated affair for one of the most powerful men in Scotland.

“James. Thank you for coming.”

“Anything for my favourite young Chieftain. The other ones I’m forced to routinely spend time with are old and grumpy and smelly. Besides, our part of the world is infinitely better than anywhere else I could be right now – that is to say, the cesspit that is London. Although I might be slightly biased.”

Hiccup beamed from ear to ear and stepped to the side to allow his friend to enter the house. “Aren’t we all?”

“How are you holding up, my boy? I do appreciate your letters, though we are both well aware of the detail that can often be missed through communication by ink and paper alone. Are you eating? Sleeping?”

“I’m doing well, James, thank you. I’ve had some good friends over the last few months who have taken care of me, and I’ve also come to a conclusion about what I’d like to do next.”

“Yes, you said so much in your last letter. I’m looking forward to hearing what you have to say – though you could have invited me to stay regardless. I like the peace and quiet of the west coast, and your company in particular.”

Hiccup gave his friend a wide smile; James winked back before turning to his manservant. Though he was getting on for ninety, he was still mobile and perfectly capable of commanding a household and his affairs with the quiet, graceful confidence of a man who held a considerable amount of power and knew how to wield it delicately.

“Graeme? Would you mind putting on a pot of tea for myself and Hugh here? We’ll be in the library.”

“Of course, your Lordship.”

The library had been hastily tidied the night before; Fishlegs had a tendency to flit between books on a whim while reading, which resulted in a large sprawl of pages that was rarely in something resembling a logical order and never to a standard that was acceptable for the Earl of Caithness, who was particular to the smell of old books and always chose the library in which to discuss any business during his visits to the Haddock manor house. Snotlout had been in to light a fire half an hour before James’ arrival (“I can be useful too, you know!”) and the room now had a comfortable warmth to it that contrasted nicely with the light falling of rain outside. Hiccup let James choose the seat closest to the fire, before taking the chair opposite him.

“So, shall we get straight into it? We’ll have plenty of time for jokes and friendly discussion later, I’m sure.”

Hiccup gave him a nervous smile, before exhaling shakily and sitting up straight. “Okay. Wow, uhm… So basically, I’ve been thinking a lot about what my future looks like, and, well, it’s probably not something you’re expecting to hear from me. And I am well aware you may disagree, as is your prerogative; I welcome your counsel as a more experienced Chief than myself to judge whether I have missed anything important.”

“A wise decision, lad. And a polite way of saying I’m getting on a bit. Please continue.”

“Well, uhm, the long and short of it is… I want to leave Scotland. Sail over to Canada, get down to the Americas maybe, if I can make it. Only for a while, mind. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not abandoning my responsibilities here, I just don’t see a future for me in commuting to and from London to sit in the Chamber and having to take part in the running of the country. It’s not me. My dad was always much better at that than I could ever be, and even he hated all the politics that came with it. He always said a Chief’s first duty is to his people, to his Clan, and that’s what he was trying to do, right up until he died.”

Hiccup leant foward into his chair a little. “If I sell some things I don’t need and spread the money out, I can offer the Clan the same opportunities to go to Australia or Canada if they wish. Those that want to stay here will be able to. With what’s left, I’d like to go and see the world. See some new inventions. Make some of my own. And I just don’t see that happening here. Even if I do have to come back eventually, it would at least give me a little bit of freedom before I subjected myself to that particular duty.”

He watched James nod his head in thought.

“Again, I’m not shirking my duties entirely; I’d make sure whoever remained was provided for, and that whoever decided to leave had enough to make a new life for themselves, whether in England or further afield. But you’ve said it yourself before – the time of the clans is almost over. Yes, we have our titles and lands, but the clan system isn’t what it used to be, and the burden of change is on our people now. I don’t need to defend my lands and people from the MacLeods anymore than you and Clan Sutherland are still mortal enemies. I truly believe my people would be better served trying to find a place in the new world than staying here in a shrinking, unimportant clan, regardless of what I do.”

“Oh, I daresay your clan will never be unimportant, Hiccup. You hold a Seventh, constitute one of the most powerful peerages in Scotland – but beyond even that, your people were the ones who befriended the greatest creatures ever to walk the earth, if we are to believe the stories. The livelihood of Clan Haddock may fade from the annals of history, but its legacy will outlive even your grandchildren, mark my words.”

“Does that mean you don’t support my idea?”

“It means I’m still thinking, my boy.”

A silence stretched out between the two, punctuated only by James’ foot tapping in thought and a small break in the middle in which Graeme delivered their tea, before excusing himself from the room to speak to Fishlegs, with whom he was well acquainted. Hiccup busied himself with the tea tray, ensuring James’ cup was as he liked it before handing it over. It wasn’t until he’d taken his first gulp that James gave his response.

“Well, you’ve certainly thought a lot of it through. I can’t say it’s something I would do, but I am far older, and my Clan is much larger than yours. My concern is how you will guarantee that those of yours who wish to remain are treated fairly and ensure they get what they deserve, were you to remain abroad for an extended period of time. I assume you don’t intend to break the Clan up entirely?”

“No. Clan Haddock will remain, if not a little dispersed. Besides, you never know when having a Peerage might come in handy.”

“Very true. But my concern is that with no Chief here to manage things, what’s to stop someone coming and squatting on your land? Or claiming it as their own? What will be your deterrent?”

“Well, that’s actually why I asked you here today, James. I need to ask you something.”

“Oh, how exciting! Go on then, ask me your question. I should warn you though, I am already happily married.”

Hiccup smiled, grateful for James’ attempt to relieve some tension. “You may be the most powerful man in Scotland.”

“I think the Prime Minister might be, actually-”

“He’s barely set foot in Scotland, to my knowledge. Stop being subversive.”

“I can’t be subversive, you’ve just told me I’m the most powerful man in Scotland, there’s no one for me to be subversive towards-”

“_My point is_ you are a powerful, well-connected and, above all, highly respected man. You and your Clan hold a large amount of land and wealth, not to mention you’re a personal friend to the King. As a matter of fact, didn’t you tutor him when he was the Prince of Wales?”

“Stop flattering me and get to the point.”

Hiccup exhaled. This was the crux of the matter. “My father trusted you more than any other chief in Scotland. He held you in the highest regard, as an honest, loyal and just chieftain. There’s no one either of us respect more. So, what I’m asking is: will you, as the Chief of Clan Sinclair, take temporary guardianship of Clan Haddock’s lands and subsidiary titles until I come back, whenever that may be?”

Hiccup bit his lip. There, he’d said it. No taking it back now. He’d spent the days since James had confirmed the date of his visit turning the words over and over in his mind in every waking moment, trying to find the best way to deliver them. He could only hope they were enough, for they could not have been truer – he trusted no-one outside the Clan more than James. They had been friends ever since Hiccup had been a boy; James had never talked down to him or made him feel inadequate like many of the other Chieftains did. Once Hiccup had reached adolescence, the two had bonded further over their shared love of innovation and design, talking excitedly in letters and in person alike about the minutiae of the particulars of a steam engine, or the design of the underground railway in London, or even the advent of a wonderful invention called a telephone. Despite an age difference of well over sixty years, Hiccup readily called James a best friend, and, in one humbling moment whilst inspecting the construction of a branch of the underground railway in London, had received that honour in return.

Now he had to see whether that was enough for James to take on this not insignificant role for him.

James’ foot ceased tapping shortly after, a sign that he had finished his internal deliberation.

“You’re asking a lot of me, Hugh.” Hiccup noted the return to the use of his given name and braced himself for the rest of James’ response. “As you’ve noted, I am a busy man, with a lot to be attending to already. Adding the responsibility of an additional clan to that is not exactly ideal. Even with your clan, who are the biggest bunch of peacemakers I’ve ever met.” James sighed. “That being said, we’re talking less than fifty square miles of farmland, and, what – less than eighty people?”

“Probably fewer; there’s a lot of couples on the younger side and the like who will probably jump at the chance to move south, especially if it’s paid for.”

“Being as modest as I can here, that’s a drop in the water compared to my current fare. I’m also aware that our people have historically got on very well; were any of yours willing to stay rather than take you up on your generous offer, Clan Sinclair would be happy to provide for them.”

“Does that mean…?”

“Yes. I will do as you ask, Hiccup. I will subsume your lands and titles, bar your Dukedom, until such a time as you return to claim them, or your Clan dissolves. I assume I have permission to put the arable farmland to good use, make a profit out of it?”

“Keep it usable, but yes, as long as those staying to live on the land agree.”

“And your titles, the ones you aren’t keeping?”

“Give them to good people, who will make good work in the Chamber. I only need one, and that’s a loose need too. I’m also planning on giving you… my Seventh, in my absence.”

James sat up straight, eyes widening in surprise. “That’s a big deal, my lad. The other Clans are guaranteed to get up in arms about that. No clan has ever held more than one Seventh, even temporarily.”

“I don’t even want the thing anyway. We can decide someone to give it to, surely? One of the smaller Clans who have good intentions.”

“Oh, you need to be careful about that. Power can corrupt even the best intentions. No, it needs to go to a family who are honourable above all else. Presently, no one comes to mind. We shall have to think on that a little longer.”

“I trust your judgment, if it isn't sorted before I go.”

“Well, then. I believe we are agreed on a course of action.” James took a long drink from his cup, before turning his gaze to the nearest window. Hiccup thought he might have mild whiplash from how quickly that decision had been reached.

“That was… a lot easier than I was expecting.”

“My good lad, why on earth would it need to be difficult? You and your father, and your grandmother for that matter, have done me many a favour over the years, and what you ask, while perhaps a little unorthodox, is hardly a great burden to undertake in the grand scheme of things. I have so many grandchildren in search of something to do in the Clan, I can assign two or three to manage your estate while you are off on your jollies. They’ll have to earn it, of course. Prove that they are sufficiently competent. Oh, the fun I could have with that…”

“You’ll really do it, then?” Hiccup couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice.

“You have my word, Hiccup. I will defend and serve your lands, and what remains of your people, as though they are my own, until I hear directly from you that there is no further need. This promise I make to you, and, in the event that I die before you return to give further instructions, George shall make to you also. When I return to Caithness, I shall have several copies of what we have discussed drawn up; all three of us will sign them, and I will forward a copy to His Majesty also, for safekeeping.”

“The King reads your letters?”

“What, does he not read yours? We are in regular correspondence, His Majesty and I.” There was a twinkle in James’ eye as he winked at Hiccup, before setting his empty cup down. “So, I assume you are not taking this voyage alone. Who will be accompanying you? I should like to hear all about them.”

“Well, there’s Fishlegs- Justin, my librarian, who you know well. There’s also a pair of twins from one of the families on the estate, whose parents died last year and who are keen to see the West. There’s a friend of the family who has been living abroad for some years now, but who has returned home to Scotland recently. And… well, there’s one more, but I must trust your discretion here.”

“You may speak freely, my boy.”

“The sixth member of our party is Snot- Scott Jorgenson. You may have heard that he was recently disowned and stripped of his Clan membership.”

“Ah. Yes, I can see why you will need to tread delicately with this.” James' tone had become somewhat icy.

“He has nowhere else to go, no money. We don’t even get on that well, but he is family and I can’t see him starving on the street.”

“Hmm.” James drummed his fingers against the armrest. “I don’t personally agree with his choices; if he absolutely had to act on them, he should have attempted to be much more discreet. It’s his own fault he got caught. But I commend you for taking him in. And should the boy wish to seek a new life out beyond Europe, well, I say good luck to him. To you all, in fact.”

Before Hiccup could response, there was a series of muffled thumps outside the door to the hall, followed by an exasperated “_**jävla fan**!_”. He stifled a laugh. Only one person in the house swore in Swedish, and with that degree of ferocity.

“Please excuse me a second.” Hiccup jumped to his feet and made his way over to the door; behind it, he found Astrid scrambling on the floor after a pile of boxes that she had clearly spilled tripping down the stairs. She looked over her shoulder and sighed.

“Oh, I’m sorry Hiccup, I didn’t mean to interrupt! I was just trying to sort some of these boxes for you, but it’s wash day, so I only have skirts today and this pile of _shit_-” She took a deep breath, and spoke again more softly. “It got caught under my feet. I don’t think anything’s broken, I didn’t hear a crash; you can go back to your meeting.”

“Young lady, there are worse things in life than spilt milk. Or boxes, in this instance.” James had appeared in the doorway, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I’m so sorry, Lord Caithness, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” Astrid allowed Hiccup to help her to her feet.

“Don’t worry, child, we are more than capable of picking our conversation back up where we left it off, or thereabouts. More importantly, are you alright, my dear? No serious injuries from your noble tumble?”

“No, your Lordship, only a bruised knee.”

“I’ve always maintained that if you haven’t got at least one healing bruise or broken bone at any given time, you’re not having enough fun. Hiccup here is a prime example of that.”

“James-”

“When he was barely seven years old, I came here for a gathering of the Seven with his father and a few others. We were discussing our new roles in the Parliament in London, and how we could make sure our people and our way of life would be defended from the English – standard fare, really. Hiccup was supposed to be shadowing his father, learning the trade, making good impressions. Instead, he snuck off to go troll hunting.”

“She doesn’t need to hear this-”

“He came back a few hours later with a broken arm and bruises all over his face, saying he'd tripped and fallen over a small cliff. Lord Leven was highly unimpressed and insisted that Hiccup be punished by sitting through the rest of the meeting, or else he and Lord Seafield would take it as an insult that he hadn’t joined them in the first place and that they would leave there and then. Well, Stoick quickly set his arm and then had him sit at his right hand for the rest of the day, and, small though he was, he didn’t cry or complain once. That was when I knew he was going to grow up into a great chief, because he was willing to put his own pride aside in order to do what was best for his people. I beg your pardon my dear, have I said something amusing?”

“No, your Lordship, I’m sorry, it's just...” Astrid burst into a fit of giggles. “He told me he’d broken it at the Games the week before. Pushed a bunch of people out of the path of a rogue caber.”

Hiccup felt his cheeks inflame. “Oh boy...”

“’_I’m a hero, Astrid, it’s a war wound. Everyone was so impressed with me, Astrid_,'” she cackled in a poor imitation of his nasally, childhood voice. The heat in his cheeks darkened.

“Okay, first of all, I do _not_ sound like that-”

“I never had you pegged as a liar, Haddock. For _shame_! Lying to an impressionable six-year-old girl!”

“You two knew each other as children?” James seemed surprised.

“Astrid grew up here, James,” Hiccup explained. “She’s Clan Haddock too; her family emigrated to Sweden when we were fifteen. She came back to support me after Dad died.”

“Oh.” James' signature smile had crept back onto his face. “I see now.”

Astrid tilted her head in curiosity. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m saying I see how you might be _supporting_ young Hiccup here.” The old man was grinning ear to ear now, the pictorial definition of the concept of a 'shit-eating grin'. Astrid's eyebrows continued in their frown for a few seconds, before her jaw dropped in a little “oh”. Hiccup was sure her cheeks were turning the same shade of magenta as his own.

“Ohhhkay – and on that note, James, let's get back to our discussion. Astrid, I'll see you all at lunch, yeah?” Hiccup started herding his guest back into the library.

“Of course, but-?”

“Great, thanks, see you later!” he called over his shoulder before he shut the door. Turning around to face the room, he saw his friend's shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

“James Sinclair, you are a meddlesome old fishwife.”

“Oh, I'm allowed to have some fun at my age. What’s the excitement in being proper? As far as I'm concerned, decorum is what stops a lot of people being happy. I’d do away with it all together, if I could.”

“Still, please don't embarrass Astrid, I have a hard-enough time understanding why she wants to be friends with me in the first place.”

James sighed as he lowered himself back into his seat by the fire. “Hiccup, my boy, you are highly intelligent for your age. It's one of the reasons I seek your company as often as I do; so rarely to I get to have an intellectual equal to talk with. But in some areas, notably matters of the heart, you are completely useless.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Oh, do stop being so dramatic,” James chuckled, leaning over to the table to pour them both another cup of tea. “Here, come sit down and take some advice from an old man who has had the fortune of living a long and happy life.” He offered one of the cups out to Hiccup, who didn’t miss the almost alarming way it rattled in its saucer in James' outstretched hand. As he sat down again, James gave him a sad smile.

“One of the more unfortunate side effects of ageing, I’m afraid.” He rubbed his hand gently. “But I am still entirely competent. For now. I do not see my time left on this Earth as plentiful and unworried.”

“James-”

“Let me finish, please.” His words were soft and without malice, and Hiccup settled back in his chair, content to hear him out.

“You’ve not had an easy time of it, my boy. What with your mother's disappearance, your shrinking lands, your father's passing. You may be the youngest Chieftain Scotland has had in over a hundred years. And the world is... not the same one I grew up in. But there are some things that stay the same throughout the ages. The vivaciousness of children playing together. The excitement of seeing new inventions become reality. The intimate love shared between a newly married couple. Now, you may not be ready for marriage yet, and that is your choice to make when you are. But I have spent maybe two minutes with that young woman just now, and I can tell you that the way things are between the two of you, well... The only other love like that I’ve seen like that was between Her Majesty and Prince Albert.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she doesn’t feel the same way.” He hated how much he sounded like a pining teenager, but it had to be said.

“I beg to differ, laddie. I shall confirm my point when we all dine together shortly.”

“Thanks, no pressure there. But, James, I really don’t think she sees me like that.”

James laughed solidly. “Oh, Hiccup. You really have no clue, do you?”

“Well, I think _no_ clue might be a bit unfair...”

James leant forwards and rested one hand on top of Hiccup's knee. “It has been one of the greatest privileges of my life to be your friend, Hiccup,” he smiled. “When my time comes, as it will sooner rather than later, I shall die happy for having had the chance to know you. I should be even happier if I saw you wed that beautiful girl before my time is up.”

Hiccup looked down at his tea and blushed. “I’m working on it,” he muttered.

“That’s my lad.” James gave a brisk pat to his knee, before pushing himself to his feet. “Now, I’d say we have time for a quick stroll around your lovely gardens before luncheon, wouldn’t you agree?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here begins a couple of chapters where the pacing has been a little difficult to work out. I was going to make the third scene its own chapter but then *this* chapter would have only been about 2.7k words and that's not long enough... I think it's worked out okay in the end though?
> 
> on a more positive note, that scene with James is one of my favourite scenes I've written so far (and he's also my fave OC)!
> 
> chapter title from 'Friends' by Eliza and the Bear


	5. the future's in our hands

**FEBRUARY 1908**  
** Scottish Highlands**

Haddock Manor was a gorgeous building that had been constructed well over one hundred and fifty years prior to Hiccup’s birth, and unlike all the other chiefs’ houses across the country, it served primarily as a dwelling to which the whole clan was entitled. In a tradition that stretched back to the Hooligans’ first arrival in Scotland nearly a thousand years ago, the house was always open to any members of the Clan, day or night. Hiccup had long since got used to opening a door to a room as a child and finding a stray member of the clan in search of food or books to peruse or simply a welcome place to take a nap. In addition, there was just about enough room to take in every member of the Clan in the dining room, if the table was moved to one side. This was a new ability - the clan had historically been far too large to do so.

In any case, there were never any occasions in which the whole clan gathered together in the house. There was already a building that had existed for more years than anyone could really remember that served this purpose at every occasion.

Clan Haddock’s meeting hall had originally been painstakingly built over many weeks from rocks and moss by the first clansmen who had settled on this land, but at some point more recently a Chief had taken it upon themself to provide a little more structural integrity and aesthetic to the building. The inside was now decorated with oak beams and white mortar, with a higher roof, and wooden benches for the clan to sit on when they were all convened together. It would not have fit them all when Clan Haddock numbered near a thousand, but now they were less than a hundred it was plenty big for everyone who wished to fill it.

It gave great peace to Hiccup to sit and look up at the ceiling above him, as he had done so many times as a boy sat at his father’s right hand.

The size of the building should have meant that it was freezing cold and impossible to heat, but against all logic it only took two small fires in the grates either side of the hall to warm the occupants, no matter the weather outside. Children in the clan were told that it was the magic of the dragons, keeping watch over them even all this time later; there were few adults that had a better explanation to offer. Perhaps it was true that there was some magic to the hall. Hiccup had never once crossed the threshold and felt anything other than wonder and hope, no matter how he had felt coming to a gathering of the clan.

His old chair sat at his right side, a slightly smaller but no less beautiful version of the Chief’s carved wooden chair. Throughout the years, it had been the chair of many Chiefs' and Chieftainesses' spouses - a tradition that had been broken when Hiccup’s mother had disappeared. With no one else to take his father’s right hand, Hiccup had first found himself sat in the chair at the age of five. That first meeting, he had paid no attention to the business going on before him, but had spent hours staring up in awe at the wooden roof above, at the map of the night sky that had been painstakingly etched into the roof by a member of the clan when Stoick had himself been a boy. Since then, whenever he had been sad, or angry, or lost, he had come here and lain on the floor and stared up at the night sky until calmness and clarity of thought had been returned to him.

From his new seat in the Chief’s chair, Hiccup watched as Astrid gazed up at the night sky from his former place with the same look of quiet amazement on her face, and felt his heart swell even more with love for her. Her jaw had fallen when she’d reentered the hall for the first time in years; he had smiled and led her to the best seat in the house (as far as he was concerned).

“I’d forgotten how beautiful it was,” she whispered, only for him. The hall was slowly filling up with the remainder of their clan and a low level of chatter obscured their conversation from other ears. “It’s almost exactly as if we took the roof off and could see outside.”

“It’s a wonderful source of grounding,” he replied softly. “To know that in the grand scheme of things, our troubles are only temporary, and that the world keeps spinning and the stars keep shining.”

“It doesn’t solve our problems, though,” she said, turning her gaze away from the sky to meet his eyes. “It doesn’t help fix what’s wrong.” There was something beneath her words, a deeper meaning, but he couldn’t quite pull it out.

“Maybe not,” he conceded. “But maybe it helps us realise that some things are more important than others. Maybe it helps us be happy. That’s enough, right?”

She only nodded, before gathering herself and making to stand up. “Everyone’s almost here, I should probably go and sit down with the others.”

Hiccup was hit with a sudden pang of longing, and his hand darted out to lightly wrap around her wrist. “Please. Stay?” he asked, barely less than a beg. “I don’t… I don’t want to do this by myself. You are… you’re my biggest support, and while I would never pressure you, I would be so grateful if you would be at my side for this.”

“Hiccup, people are going to make assumptions if I continue sitting up here next to you,” she whispered, her face momentarily overcome by something close to pain. Of course. Seeing their young chief with an unmarried woman next to him meant that many of the clan would immediately assume that he had gathered them to announce his engagement. And while Hiccup wanted nothing more than to be able to proclaim the love he had for her from the top of Ben Nevis for all of Scotland to hear, Astrid did not want the same. That much was clear from her body language, the look on her face, the way her voice wavered in a vulnerable way that was so jarringly unfamiliar to Hiccup that he immediately let go of her wrist and retreated into himself.

“Of course,” he managed, doing his best to maintain an air of indifference so as not to give himself away. “I wouldn’t want to give the wrong impression. Please sit where you feel most comfortable.”

She looked at him as though he had wounded her, and his heart felt like it was about to tear in two. He’d got it wrong again and hurt her more - but he didn’t know how. He had no opportunity to ask, for at that moment the door closed behind the last member of the clan and Astrid scuttled off to sit next to their friends while his attention was momentarily elsewhere; when he turned his head back round to address her once more she was hidden from view as Fishlegs leant over to help translate for her.

He tossed his words around in his head again and again. What was it that he’d said that had affected her so much? He’d told her how much she meant to him, how important her support was, and she’d immediately frozen. Maybe it was something akin to stage-fright, with the rest of the clan watching on. Astrid, while strong and proud, was not accustomed to addressing large groups of people in the same way he was. Maybe that was it.

He had to put that to one side now, though. The clan had suddenly quietened, with over seventy pairs of eyes looking up at him expectantly, waiting to hear the news he had gathered them to share. He took a deep breath and buried his worries in a box in his brain. Hiccup’s problems would have to wait. The Chief needed to talk.

He missed his father.

“_My wonderful people_,” he began in his mother tongue, the language they all shared. “_Thank you for agreeing to come and listen to me this evening. I have a proposition which I wish to discuss with you all_.”

* * *

It went better than he was expecting.

He stumbled far too quickly through his explanation at the start, necessitating him to go back and clarify for the older members of the clan whose hearing was not as good. He missed out a detail regarding the arrangement with James which caused great indignation among those who caught a contradiction in his words, and he began to fear that he had lost them before he’d even finished his proposal. But just as he was beginning to panic, a movement off to his right caught his eye, and he shifted his gaze to find that Astrid had emerged from behind Fishlegs to give him a small reassuring smile. It had worked; he managed the rest of his proposal with a semblance of confidence.

When he finally finished speaking, there was a heavy silence throughout the hall. He chewed his lip and waited for a response.

The first to speak was a woman named Shelagh who, though nearly thirty, was still closest in age to Hiccup and his friends, and who had recently secured a job in Edinburgh to train as a nurse. “_Chief, thank you for bringing this to us_,” she began. “_Many other chiefs would simply impose this on us, but you phrase it as a possibility rather than a command, and we thank you for giving us the choice. I cannot speak for everyone, but you will probably be able to guess that I am not opposed to your suggestion. The time of the clans is drawing to a close, and it would do us good to get a head start on joining the modern world. You have my support_.”

The next, a man of a similar age to his father, was not so positive. “_Hiccup, I knew your father fairly well, and I do have to question if he would be comfortable with this. You say you are not absconding your responsibilities, and I can tell you’ve put effort into making sure we’re not completely abandoned, but it does feel like you’re doing this one way or another, regardless of what we say_.”

Hiccup shook his head. “_I understand your concerns, but that is not the case. This is only done by consensus. You all have to agree with it, or I will not do it_.”

“_You would give up your happiness for us_?”

“_I’m not unhappy, Iain; or at least, not unhappy enough to leave you all entirely. But I won’t deny that if it were entirely my choice I would do it without hesitation. In any case, I have enough love and respect for you all to put my wants aside to serve you all. I’m your Chief before I’m anything else_.”

“_He’s not exactly throwing us out with the bathwater though, is he? The Sinclairs have always been good to us; if Hiccup trusts Caithness, that’s enough for me_.”

“_This is not just a small thing, though. If we were talking about joining forces for the Games, fine, I’m all for teaming up with the Sinclairs. But we’re talking about giving control of our lands over to another clan for the first time in nearly a thousand years. That’s not something we should take lightly._”

The clan descended into chatter; Hiccup decided to let them. A lot of clansmen needed to get their heads around some of the ideas they were discussing, and his contributions at this point might not necessarily be helpful. Sat in his chair, he turned his attention to the ceiling above him once again and let himself be lost in the drawings above him, trying not to feel alone.

A little while later, the dying chatter brought his focus back into the room.

In the seconds it took for the conversations to halt completely, he flicked his eyes around the whole clan, taking in each and every one of them and silently offering gratitude for his clan and his family. Despite the obvious point of contention, and the significance of the decision facing them, he still felt nothing but love for them all.

Shelagh stood again on behalf of the clan as he took a steadying breath. “_We have discussed this in great detail. You have clearly done all you can to provide for us whatever we decide, whether we agree with you or not. Your intentions are honourable and as much as you are our Chief, you are also a person like the rest of us, and you deserve to be happy too. If you can make good on your promise to provide for us in your absence, we consent to your idea_.”

It took a second for him to process what she’d said. “_You mean you agree? Really_?”

“_Yes. Clan Haddock will begin a new chapter in our history.” _Then, with a slightly darker tone to her voice:_ “on your honour shall rest the consequences_.”

* * *

She thought it had gone rather well, all things considered.

It had been a hard sell from the first word, and even though the clan had consented in the end, there were still more than a handful who were not completely content with the idea. This was not so much of an issue - they had several months of preparation ahead of them in which to bring them round to what was now almost certain to happen - but Astrid knew Hiccup was not completely at ease with the face that not everyone had agreed immediately and enthusiastically. This was not obvious to the majority, though, with the way he had moved through the crowd after and shaken everyone’s hand and thanked them for their support with an incredible grin on his face. Despite her own internal anguish, she could not help but feel her lips twitch up in her own small smile at the sight of his unabashed happiness. For a brief second, at least, until the reason for her discomfort and upset returned to the front of her consciousness, and she fell back into her worry.

She stayed quiet even after most of the clan had left back into the night to head home from the gathering, even when they themselves finally left to walk Ruff and Tuff home in the dark after the twins had somehow managed to sneak a bottle of whiskey into the gathering and drink the whole thing without anyone noticing. Hiccup walked ahead with Ruff as she babbled constantly about some nonsense - broadly, she thought it was something to do with sheep but even that was a guess - while she and Tuff walked in companionable silence a short distance behind, the quiet of the night around them only broken when Tuff yawned in an obnoxious manner.

Tuff’s company was stellar on this occasion as the silence gave Astrid the opportunity to try and calm the shouting match that seemed to be going on between two parts of her brain, while the remainder cowered in fear in a dark corner of her mind. Mostly it was self-admonishment for the way she had handled the start of the meeting and the way she’d done a poor job of concealing her emotions that afternoon. First, she’d been jumpy and cross in the house, then silent on the walk over in the early evening. Hiccup had asked her if she was okay a couple of times, but after that he had stopped fairly quickly when she continued to give the same neutral response. She couldn’t blame him - he had his own worries to attend to, of course - but she still felt slightly put out by the fact that no one (okay, she only really cared about Hiccup) seemed to notice that she was rather upset. And then at the start of the meeting he’d so indifferently cast her aside when she’d pointed out that people might assume they were together, as if the very thought of him marrying her was too awful to bear thinking about. That had been the final straw; she’d taken the distraction of the door closing to sneak off and sit out of his direct line of sight for the remainder of the evening, barring that one occasion where her need to check on him had grown too strong and she’d leant forwards to offer him a warm smile of support. It had almost made her burst with love when he’d been so visibly restored by it for the rest of his address.

The letter hidden in her pocket seemed to burn hotter every second from that point on.

She’d written to her parents at the start of January. After the initial excitement of their Christmas day discovery, they’d all spent the next few days discussing it in more detail, trying to work out the kinks in order to make it feasible. She and Hiccup had passed hours in front of the slowly dwindling fire discussing what he would say to James in their meeting, and when they had finally reached an idea of how he would phrase his request, the conversation had turned to light-hearted chatter. Even after James’ visit had proved a success and was well enough over, their conversations continued, talking about what they’d had for dinner and their dreams for the future and everything in between. Sometimes Fishlegs or Snotlout stayed up to talk with them, but invariably they were always left by themselves some time before midnight as tiredness took the other two off to bed. Last night they’d stayed up until dawn threatened to break on the eastern horizon, but Astrid had gone upstairs anything but tired. Her heart fluttered endlessly with excitement and love and she’d still been smiling as sleep found her at last.

The letter had arrived this morning, taking her completely by surprise She’d managed to school her face just in time to not alert the others, then faked menstrual cramps and tiredness as an excuse to hide in her room for the day. Sobbing into her pillow, fighting off the urge to scream in frustration, she’d reread it over and over again in futile hope that the words and content would change, but the black letters refused to rearrange themself and in the end she’d been forced to submit to reality and accept her fate.

No matter how she she spun it, she saw the inevitability of her situation: March would come and she would have to be back in Sweden by the end of the month or face the consequences of her disobedience.

She would accept it (not that she had much choice) but so help her she was going to bitch about it the whole time.

The question now was how she told Hiccup about it. And what she told him.

In the end, she came to the conclusion that she would not spill her heart to him as well. If he did not feel the same way, their final weeks would be marred with a layer of awkwardness that would be impossible to remove, and she would return to Sweden to get over him on her own. But if he did, it would be so much worse; another layer of cruelty to have such little time together before they had to be separated, likely never to see each other again. The arguments bounced round and round but in the end caution won out.

She reasoned it was best to do it as soon as possible - not least for the fact that keeping this secret to herself for months would tear her apart - and before dinner she’d gone downstairs with the mindset that she would tell him tonight, so he wouldn’t have any misconceptions of his plans going forwards. It would hurt, and it would be awkward, but in the long term it would be best for both of them. She could start detaching herself from him, and he could… well, deal with it however he wanted. It would be best to do it now.

But here he was on the way back to the house, after a positive reaction from the clan, chattering away about how all their dreams were coming true and the world was their oyster, and she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

The tension of it all grew into too much, and Astrid let out a little whimper of pain to try and let some of the stress centered in her chest bubble over. She hoped that Hiccup was so in flow with his excited babbling that he would miss it.

“Astrid?”

He didn’t miss it, though. He never missed anything. Her hands clenched into fists at her own stupidity.

“Are you alright? What is it?”

Her lips pursed and her lungs rose and fall in a deep breath.

“Please tell me?”

She came to a stop next to him, staring at the floor and begging the words inside her to not overflow and spill out and ruin what had been such a positive evening for him. But as is often the case with burning truths, the words refused to be contained.

“Hiccup, I can’t come with you.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath, as though someone had stolen all the air from his lungs.

“What?”

“I can’t come with you to America. I have to go back to Sweden by the end of next month.”

She finally raised her gaze from the floor to his face and found it slack in shock, his jaw trembling slightly as he tried to form a response. She watched his neck bob as he swallowed.

“I thought you said you wanted to come with us.” She could hear that he was trying so hard to make it not sound like an accusation. It made her want to cry even more. “You said you were on board, that you hated your life there, that you wanted something else.”

“I do. But my parents have said my time here is up. I was only supposed to be here until just before Christmas, I’ve already defied them once to stay here longer. If I do it again, my whole future is on the line. I can’t risk my whole future on a dream, no matter how lovely it is.” No matter how lovely you are.

“But you could have a future here with me,” he whispered, tears brimming in his own eyes. “I mean, with all of us, you wouldn’t need to go back to Sweden-”

“My parents will disown me if I don’t!” she cried. “I’ll be all by myself, no money, no one to vouch for me. A woman can’t get fucking anywhere in this world unless her father or husband sets it up for her. And I don’t want to be married yet, there’s far too much I want to do before I tie myself to a man who barely tolerates me, sees me as a sex object. It’s not like I can…” She trailed off as she caught the sight of his trembling bottom lip. It took all her restraint not to reach over and kiss him there and then, remove the tension that she had made.

She watched a single tear travel down his face.

“I have to, Hiccup,” she whispered. She gave in and raised a hand to brush the tear off his cheek. But before she could touch his face, he recoiled away from her, and her heart broke a little inside.

He stood there for a second, breathing more heavily than normal. “If that’s what you want.” His voice was tinted with malice.

She shook her head. “It’s not-”

“Well, that’s what you’re deciding to do.”

“That’s not fair! I don’t have a choice here!”

“You do! You said that you defied them once before, they didn’t exactly punish you for it, did they, since you’re still here.”

“You have no idea what I gave up to stay here longer, with you, with all of you,” she cried. “You don’t have to think about this, you don’t have to worry about your future-”

“Astrid, the whole reason we came up with this plan was because I am worried about my future! I have just as many things holding me back as you do, you don’t get a monopoly on it-”

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to feel bad because your problems are worse than mine?”

“That is absolutely not what I said.” He took a defensive stance for the first time, holding his hands up.

“Oh, but you meant it,” she snapped before she could react to his deference. Something fell in the pit of her stomach as she watched his eyes narrow.

“You have no idea what I meant,” he said. His tone was gentle, but Astrid knew better than to take it as conceding defeat. “You have no idea what I feel. Fuck- Astrid, I have no one left. First Gobber, then Dad. My own mother took off and abandoned us when I was barely days old. And now you’re leaving me too. Again.”

“I don’t really have a choice,” she whispered.

“You do!” he yelled, before softening again. “You can stay here, with me, you can…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “Gah…” He turned away from her for a second; she fought every instinct that told her to go and take him in her arms.

It was another few seconds before he turned back around, a slightly contorted smile on his face.

“I should know better than to try to change your mind,” he laughed without humour. “There’s no stopping you once you’ve decided on something.”

“Hiccup,” she tried, but he just shook his head.

“It’s been really great having you back, Astrid,” he said. “I’m just sorry it’s not enough for you to stay.”

He turned to leave, and she couldn’t help herself then. Her first flew forward and connected with the back of his shoulder; he yelped and looked back at her. “What the fuck was that for?”

“That was for being a dick,” she snarled, wiping a fresh wave of tears away. “I’m not happy about this either, but the least you could do is not attack me for it.”

“What am I supposed to say, Astrid? I don’t want you to go, you know there are other options available to you-”

“There’s not, I’ve been over this-”

“There always is! If you want something enough, there’s always a way.”

“So you’re saying I’m not trying hard enough? As if the three letters I’ve written to my parents since I got here begging them to let me stay longer weren’t sufficient? Do you really think I haven’t been through every choice I could feasibly make, trying to find a better option? Do you really think I would be here, crying in a field in the middle of the night for upsetting you over a decision I didn’t even get to make myself, if it wasn’t the only way forward?”

She sniffed and wiped her cheeks dry again.

“I’m sorry, Hiccup.” The apology was all she could muster.

“Me too.” The bite had returned to his voice as his fists balled at his sides. “Well, I suppose we’d better get back to the house. You need to pack.”

“Please be reasonable about this.”

“I’m just trying to make this easier on both of us.”

“You can still be nice to me, you know. We can still get on.”

“Yeah, for another few days, before you up and leave me.”

Astrid screamed in frustration. “That is so not fair, Hiccup Haddock!”

“That’s life, Astrid.” And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back up the hill to the house, leaving her crying in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this nearly didn't happen on time but I managed to smack out the last couple of thousand words today and here y'are
> 
> I'm not overly pleased with it because it's a reasonable chunk of plot that's not been articulated exactly as I would have liked but I moved back to uni for my final year this week and I ran out of time to make it perfect :/
> 
> the clan's meeting hut is based loosely on the big hall of rufford old hall, lancashire, uk if anyone is curious for visual references :)
> 
> chapter title from 'things we lost in the fire' by bastille 
> 
> get ready for some angst and mutual pining y'all (*hides under rock*)


	6. I've fallen in love with this middle ground at the cost of my soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which minty aspires to earn this work's M rating
> 
> (the mature sexual content is at the very end of the chapter; if you don't want to read it, you won't miss anything plot-wise afterwards, don't worry!)

**FEBRUARY 1908**  
**Scottish Highlands**

Astrid woke in the morning with something akin to a hangover, though she hadn’t been drinking before she went to bed. From the light coming in the window through the rain trickling down outside, she judged it was late morning - understandable, considering how she’d tossed and turned for hours, even after all the tears she’d cried had long since dried on her face. For a moment as she came to, her consciousness extended only to the warmth of the blankets around her and the soft patter of rain against the panes of glass in the window, and she burrowed back into her sheets, searching to see if she could fall asleep once again. But then her brain slowly began gearing up and the memories of the previous night began to filter back in, breaking her heart anew with every passing second.

Even after she had truly woken up she stayed curled up in bed, as if by doing so she could undo the events of the previous night and start afresh. The world had reset, and she had not yet made her decision, and when she got up she would go downstairs and find Hiccup smiling and waiting for her and things would not be ruined.

But it hadn’t, and she had, and she’d be lucky if he’d even look at her today from the way they’d parted last night. The memory of the bite in his voice and the pain on his face would have brought fresh tears to her eyes if she had any more left to cry.

She hid - that’s what she was doing, really, loathe as she was to admit it - in her room until the gnawing feeling of hunger and thirst in her belly could be ignored no longer, and grudgingly she pulled herself out of bed to get dressed. Normally she dressed in trousers, revelling in the freedom of not having skirts twisted around her legs and hindering her movement, but today she reached gladly for her dresses and petticoats. The weight of layers of clothing over her body was akin to the feeling of armour, helping protect her from the outside world, and she felt a tiny amount of confidence creeping back in as the dress settled nicely on her frame. Procrastination seized her again as she battled with her hair, taking longer than necessary to ensure a standard of perfection. She might have felt like she was falling apart on the inside, but she was going to present an image of composure on the outside. She needed it to get through the day.

Downstairs, the house was quiet. Too quiet. With four people living in an old wooden house, there were constant creaks and scuffles as they moved around, but as Astrid reached the bottom of the stairs and came to a halt, there was only silence. The only indication that there was anyone there at all was the light flickering under the door to the library, indicating that someone had lit a fire there fairly recently.

The door creaked slightly on its hinges as she gently pushed into the room, her gaze frantically searching for Hiccup, pleading silently in equal measures both for him to be there and also for him not to be. Her heart sank a little when she saw only Fishlegs, sat quietly by the fire engrossed in a book.

“**_Hej_**, Fish,” she called softly, her voice a little hoarse.

His head snapped up as if she’d startled him. Astrid let herself smile; it was not uncommon for him to get completely engrossed in whatever text he was reading to the point where he completely dissociated from the outside world. The twins often played a game where they tried to get Fishlegs to absentmindedly agree with the most obnoxious things they could think of while his nose was buried in a book and he wasn’t really paying attention to them.

“Astrid,” he greeted her. “How are you?”

She couldn’t help herself, letting out a small snort. “I don’t really know how to answer that,” she said honestly, moving over to take the other chair by the fire.

Beside her, Fishlegs closed his book. “Hiccup said you’d had a letter from your parents,” he began carefully.

She nodded. “Do you know where he is?” she asked. “I need to… well, I need to talk to him.”

Fishlegs blanched slightly. “Well, concerning the location of one Hiccup Haddock, I may or may not be able to confirm his current whereabouts, but that information is highly-”

“Fishlegs.”

“Fine, he’s gone down to the stables, alright!” Fishlegs blurted before slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Great, thanks Fish,” she said, making to stand up and collect her coat.

“Astrid, wait,” he called as she set back off towards the door. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you because… well, because Hiccup said he didn’t want to see you today.”

She paused with one hand on the doorknob. Slowly, she turned back to face the room, looking at Fishlegs’ slightly terrified face. “He said that?” she whispered. “He said he didn’t want to see me?” It was a fight not to well up with tears again, but damn it if she hadn’t already cried enough in the last twelve hours.

“It’s more complicated than you think,” he offered gently. “I don’t know what exactly has gone on between you two, but I know that it’s more complicated than you probably realise.”

“Talk me through that, then,” she said, walking back over to the chair and falling into it with a huff. She spread her hands in front of her. “Explain it to me. Because I have _no_ fucking clue what’s going on.”

Fishlegs sighed and looked at her with an expression of almost pity. “Astrid, you know how much he depends on all of us, but he leans on you the most. You’ve been so good for him since his dad died, especially when I was stuck at university and couldn’t come back straightaway. He doesn’t shut up about you, always going on about how amazing you are, about how lucky he is to have you around, how much he values you. Honestly, if I didn’t know how he felt, as his best friend I’d probably get a bit upset at being replaced.”

“But we are best friends,” she said, chewing her lip. “That’s how he sees me, as a close friend.”

Fishlegs studied her face quietly for a few seconds. “You think you’re telling the truth,” he muttered. “You really think that’s all he sees you as.”

Astrid frowned in confusion. “Is that… not how he sees me?”

He just blinked at her. “Astrid, Hiccup’s been in love with you since we were children. He kind of got over you when you and your family left to go to Sweden, but then you came back and he just… fell for you all over again.”

Astrid’s heart swelled with joy and froze with fear at the same time. “Oh, fuck,” she swore at the floor. “_**Jävla fan**_.” She brought her hands up to her face and looked back at him through her fingers. “Last night makes so much more sense now. Oh, I’m an idiot.”

“What happened last night?” Fishlegs probed softly. “All he said was that you’d said that you were leaving and there was nothing we could do about it. And then he said he was going to go down to the stables and that he didn’t want to see you today.”

Her head spun as she tried to find somewhere to start to explain. It took her a while to find the words, but once she had begun, she found she couldn’t stop. The commotion in her mind overflowed and she spilled it all to Fishlegs, told him that she hated herself for causing Hiccup pain, told him that she wished more than anything she could stay there with them all, told him-

Told him she loved Hiccup too.

After she had finally drawn to a close, a silence extended between the two of them as Fishlegs processed everything she’d blurted out and she fought back the urge to start swearing at herself for being such an idiot. Again.

“Well,” Fishlegs managed after a long pause. “That makes a lot of things more understandable.”

“What do I do, Fish?” she whispered. “I’ve got it all wrong. I need to fix this.” She looked down at her hands again. “I need to go and talk to Hiccup,” she realised. “I, I need to tell him, I need to tell him-”

“Astrid, wait.” An urgency in his voice made her halt, and she slowly sank back into the chair from where she’d been standing up.

Fishlegs leant forwards, his book long forgotten on the table next to him. “Astrid, you can’t tell him.”

Her heart sank further into the pit of her belly. “But, Fishlegs-”

“I know that you’re going to go down there and tell him you love him, and let me tell you, I am here for it because that man is my best friend and he loves you more than anything and I want him to know he’s loved in the same way. But can you tell me that after that, you’re going to come back here and write to your parents and tell them that you’re not going back to Sweden? That you’re going to come on this expedition with us and you’re going to defy them, despite all the consequences? Look me in the eye and tell me that you’re going to do all of that, and I’ll let you go to him without any protest. But if you’re not going to do that, if you’re going to tell him and then leave him in a few weeks and break his heart all over again, I can’t let you do it. It’s too cruel, Astrid. I can’t let you.”

She wanted to find a loop in his words. She wanted to be able to come straight back with an iron-clad rebuttal, and have everything go her way. But she sat there, and as the seconds stretched on, she knew he was right.

“I know you’re hurting,” he said softly. “But we both love him enough to know that this is the best thing for him.”

She nodded. “Okay,” she croaked. “Okay. I won’t tell him.”

Fishlegs smiled sadly, but no more words came. The two of them sat in silence for a long while after that, the only noise the crackling of the fire and the soft sheets of rain outside.

* * *

Following Fishlegs’ advice, she gave Hiccup a wide berth for the next couple of days. He appeared to be on the same page with this decision, either knowingly or not, for he left the house early in the morning each day and returned well after dark, more often than not claiming to have eaten with other members of the clan and thus not needing to join them for dinner. It broke Astrid’s heart to know that she was the direct cause of his malaise, but despite there being what some might perceive as an obvious solution, she could not bring herself to enact it. She was hurting knowing that she had upset him, but even the prospect of resolving things with Hiccup wasn’t enough to knowingly do the same to her parents and family. It truly was being stuck between a rock and a hard place, and she felt utterly miserable from it all.

She respected his boundaries and need for space, deliberately not joining in him a room on the rare occasion he was in the house and making her best effort to keep out of his way. But then after a few days, her sadness started giving way, and giving way to anger at that. He was hurting and processing, but she was too. She deserved a chance to explain herself and clear the air a little, to try and get things back to something resembling normalcy between them.

He, apparently, did not have the same persuasion.

He kept avoiding her, even when she started closing the distance between them. She’d enter a room with him in it, only to watch him scurry out the opposite door as soon as possible. She’d bring his clothes up to his room each night, only for him to murmur a “thank you” from behind the door like she was threatening him with a knife. And coupled with all that, she noticed that he’d started looking longingly in her direction whenever they were briefly in the same room. Or maybe he’d always done it, but she’d only just been noticing it in the light of Fishlegs’ revelations.

This went on for three days before she’d finally had enough.

A week after their argument, he broke his routine and came home a little earlier than usual. The other three were finishing dinner in the dining room as the door went and Astrid’s head snapped round just in time to see the tails of his coat as he took off up the stairs. Something in her head snapped.

“That’s it,” she hissed, throwing her cutlery onto her plate and pushing back from the table. “I’ve had it.”

“Astrid, don’t-”

“I’ve been patient, Fish, and I’ve given him space, but now he’s just being childish,” she snapped, walking towards the door. “We’re going to talk about it, whether he likes it or not.”

Just before the door slammed behind her, she heard Snotlout say “I hope they finally fuck and get it out of their system.”

This irked her on a whole new level, but rather than turn around and waste time berating Snotlout she channeled it into confidence to head upstairs with her fists clenched and knock on his door.

“Hiccup! I know you’re in there! You’re going to have to talk to me at some point.” Silence held from inside, bar his habitual pacing that was given away by the creaking floorboards. She knocked again, more fiercely this time. “Hiccup! _**Bruidhinn rium, dia damn e**_!”

The Gaelic got his attention. She held her breath as the pacing came to a halt, then picked up again briefly before the door swung open with little warning.

It was the first time she’d seen him properly in over a week. At a passing glance, he looked the same as he always did, same long sleeved shirt, same brown trousers, same woolen jumper. She’d seen it all before several times over since arriving in Scotland. But now, with him stationary in front of her for the longest period of time since their argument, she could see the toll their fight was taking on him. This close, she could see the dark bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep, and the shagginess of his hair that hadn’t recently seen a comb, and the way his hands balled into fists at his sides, and the way his bottom lip trembled slightly. He looked like he was in physical pain, and the shock of that knowledge was what prompted her to open her mouth first.

“I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t enough. Two words were not sufficient to explain all of her emotions and decisions and hurt towards him. But she had to start somewhere.

“I’m sorry too,” he murmured; and just like that, a great lump of tension between them just melted away. Astrid took a big, deep breath and willed some of the stress in her chest to follow it.

“May I come in?” she asked softly. “I’ve got some things I need to talk to you about.”

He stood there for a second, contemplating it. “We do need to talk,” he agreed. “But not in my room. I can’t have… I won’t be able to…” He sighed, shaking his head. “Can we go to the window seat instead?”

She bit her lip. “Okay,” she whispered.

* * *

Perhaps unsurprisingly, they found themselves in slightly uneasy silence in the new location too. Thankfully, Fishlegs had worked out that they were finally about to talk things through and had blessedly decided to drag Snoutlout out on a fool’s errand (”Why would your reading glasses be in the stables, Fishlegs?” “It’s important that I look everywhere for them, they’re really expensive, you know”) in order to give the two of them some privacy.

Astrid wanted to give Hiccup the freedom to direct the conversation, but like all their recent interactions he was stubbornly refusing to open his mouth; instead, his gaze was fixed firmly on something outside and his mouth was set in a firm line. She waited a little longer to make sure that he was not planning on starting the conversation before she finally spoke her piece.

“I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you last week,” she said quietly. “It had been an emotional night for both of us, and I regret some of the things I said to you, and the way I said them.”

She watched him nod once before finally tearing his eyes away from the window and fixing them on her face instead. She felt a little trapped, as though his gaze alone could pin her to the seat and prevent her leaving, but after a second his face relaxed and she saw anger give way to sadness.

“I’m sorry too,” he managed. His voice was scratchy, but it was still warm and nasally, just like she loved it. “It was clearly a difficult decision for you, and as your friend I should have been more supportive.”

“It’s hardly a decision,” she said, trying desperately to keep her voice calm and non-confrontational. “My parents have told me what they want, and I have to obey them. Decision, the element of choice, doesn’t really factor in here.”

He swallowed once.

“I didn’t realise how much it had upset you,” she continued, chewing her lip between sentences. “I was trying to give you space this week, since that appeared to be what you wanted.”

“I thought I did,” he said. “I thought I wanted to have space from you, to make the separation easier when it came. But it just hurt me more. That’s not your fault, though,” he hastened to add. “Since I didn’t communicate that, you couldn’t have known.”

“It hurt me too,” she whispered, and she didn’t miss the pain that flashed across his face at her words. “I was so angry with myself for upsetting you, and I wanted to apologise but you were never in the same room as me long enough for me to say it.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, his voice equally as soft. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I was ignoring you, I just…” He looked back out the window; Astrid could see the tears pooling in his eyes. On instinct, she leant over and grabbed one of his hands, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t pull it away.

“What a right pair we are,” she joked, gratified when she saw his lips twitch up in something resembling a smile too.

Something in the back of her brain told her that this would be a good time to tell him how she really felt. The air had cleared and they were both focused on each other and it was so obvious to her now that he loved her. How he held her gaze with his piercing eyes and the way his thumb rubbed smoothly across the back of her hand and how he couldn’t find it in him to stay angry with her for long. And she loved him too. There was nothing more she wanted to do right then but lean across the gap between them and find out what those soft pink lips of his tasted like. She’d lean in and kiss him, and when they paused for breath she’d spill her heart to him and tell him how much he was loved so that he could never forget it as long as he lived.

She nearly did, too.

But just as she was about to throw caution to the wind and do what she was desperate for, a voice piped up in the back of her head. A voice that sounded a lot like Fishlegs.

“_…if you’re going to tell him and then leave him in a few weeks and break his heart all over again, I can’t let you do it. It’s too cruel, Astrid. I can’t let you_.”

As much as it pained her to admit it, Fishlegs was right. She loved Hiccup so much. She loved him enough to not do this to him.

So instead of leaning forward and kissing him until she ran out of breath, she settled for squeezing his hand. “Are we good now?” she asked.

He turned back from the window, and fixed on her with those piercing green eyes once more. “Yeah,” he smiled. “Yeah, we’re good.” He squeezed her hand back.

“Friends?” She bit her lip and waited nervously for his response, a small part of her worried that she’d upset him too much and had ruined what was between them.

But she needn’t have been concerned. Hiccup moved his other hand to cover hers and smiled warmly at her. “Friends,” he agreed, and the warmth of his voice stoked a fire in Astrid’s chest that continued to burn long after they had parted for the night.

* * *

**Castle Sinclair Girnigoe, Caithness**

Hiccup’s head was still reeling from their conversation in the window several days later. It was the main focus of his thoughts, from the moment he woke up until he fell asleep at night, whenever he wasn’t engaged in something that required his total focus. How she’d berated him, how he’d felt guilty for the way he’d treated her, how she couldn’t help it that he was a lovesick idiot. How she’d held his hand and looked at him with a quiet intensity and how he’d fought every instinct in his body that had screamed at him to kiss her there and then. She’d asked if they could talk right there, in his room, and he’d had to say no. If she’d crossed the threshold and sat on his bed and looked up at him with her warm, kind eyes, the likelihood of him being able to stop himself from kissing her would have fallen to almost nothing. _Almost_ nothing because despite the desperation he had, he would never be able to do anything with her that he wasn’t sure that she would immediately and actively reciprocate.

As it was, he’d managed to cling onto his rationality by a thread and to stop himself doing anything he might regret and in the end it had all gone rather well. They’d gone to bed after a lingering hug and the next morning they’d woken up and sat and had breakfast together and it was all almost back to normal.

Almost.

Though he was glad they were back speaking to each other, he was also relieved when the time to leave for Caithness arrived. He would be travelling alone, spending a few days with James and his son to finalise the details of their agreement and sign it in front of representatives of their clan. As it happened, there would also be a couple of other chiefs visiting James for social reasons, so he thought that there would be a nice gathering of them all together for him to take his mind off what was going on at home.

As it happened, he was not entirely correct about this.

The easy bit came first, the day after his arrival spent with James and his eldest son and heir George finalising the agreement between them for their guardianship of his lands while he was overseas. James was easy to make conversation with and George, himself almost old enough to be Hiccup’s grandfather, was kind and welcoming to a fellow Chieftain and a family friend. It took them hardly any time to draft and write their agreement, with three copies scribed and signed - one for Hiccup’s records, one for the Sinclairs’ and one that would be sent to London for the Crown to take care of.

They spent the rest of the afternoon sitting with James’ many grandchildren, who aged collectively between fifteen and thirty, and their own children, who were all under seven. Hiccup sat for several hours with one particular young girl, who insisted on talking him through all her drawings of things she’d thought of.

“_When I grow up, I’m going to be an inventor, like **sinn-seanair**_” she said firmly, staring up at him with clever green eyes that were so similar to his own. “_Just you watch, **ceannard** Hugh_.”

“_I look forward to seeing your work_,” he told her truthfully.

The children were collectively and individually delightful, and Hiccup found himself engrossed in their games and their knowledge until he was almost late for dinner. The experience left him looking forward with great optimism to one day having his own children to play with and love and nurture - until he remembered how the logistics of fathering children worked, and his heart sank as he thought once more of Astrid and how badly he’d handled it all. He was lucky she was even speaking to him after how he’d behaved; there was no way in hell he was going to suggest they have children together.

He reflected somberly on his naivety from his chair at dinner that night with the other visiting chiefs, where it became blatantly obvious that he was the only one among them not married. Eleven were sat around the table: five chiefs, five chieftainesses, and Hiccup. He didn’t miss the pitiful looks that were directed at him from the others, the way the table seemed to list to one side with the imbalance of chairs that his lack of spouse seemed to provide. The others were all lovely to him and engaged him in conversation eagerly, but whether it was the look on his face or a simple sense of sympathy for him, all of them steered well clear of the topic of life partnership. The intention was well meant, but it had the inadvertent side effect of making Hiccup think about it constantly.

The evening drew on and on and the longer he thought about it, the more irritated he became, and the harder it was for him to shove away the simmering energy that was slowly building to a crest under his skin. He did his best to contain it, but by half past ten he was fighting a losing battle to conceal his semi-hard erection, born purely from sheer bloody frustration, from the rest of the room and he eventually gave in and excused himself for the night with one hand shoved in his trouser pocket to hide his predicament.

His room seemed to be far too many floors away, but he came across no one else on the way there - which was a good thing, considering the way things were escalating. The thoughts he’d been just about able to smother during dinner and the following socialising now had no need to be suppressed; he would be uninterrupted until breakfast. As he closed the door behind him and slid the heavy bolt across, his mind spun, words and thoughts and wants flying around in all directions, but all tied to a central point in the chaos.

_Astrid_.

He’d thought about her in… _indelicate_ ways before, of course, but that had always come with a heavy helping of self-admonishment and a firm belief in keeping that separate from when he took his hands to himself. It was hyper-sexual and inappropriate, and he knew it would make it harder to look her in the eye the next day, and so, with tremendous self-control, he’d managed to keep a clear head for all the time she’d been here with him. But as he fell backwards onto the bed in the cavernous room, eons away from anyone who might hear him, as he reached into his trousers and felt the warmth and the hardness there, finally the mental energy used to keep that barrier up was well and truly spent.

It would be exquisite torture, thinking of her hands and her lips all over him when that would never manifest in real life. But he’d been so good, so restrained for so long. _Fuck it_. He was about to lose her anyway. The damage couldn’t have a long-lasting impact.

He wrapped a hand around his base and, finally uninhibited, his mind went to work at a furious pace.  
  
The thought of her hands. Knotted tightly into his hair. Trailing her nails down his chest. Wrapping her hands around him and picking up the pace-

The thought of her mouth. Brushing over his chest. Sucking bruises into his neck. Kissing down his stomach until her lips reached-

The thought of her. Sat above him. Hands clutched on his chest. Head tossed back in her pleasure. The thought of her tightening around him, moving her hips forward and back until-

The thought of her leaning down in the thick of it all and whispering “I love you” to him, of her kissing him passionately and without cessation, and the noises she’d make in his ear as he coursed up into her-

And he sobbed her name into the stillness around him as he came all over his hips.

In the aftermath, he lay in a daze, spent, not even enough energy to berate himself. There was just silence and his own thoughts, and though he knew he ought to feel bad about what had just happened, his chest buzzed with the very _dream_ that Astrid might do those things to him, that they might not just be a figment of his imagination. That, one day, he might get to hear the words “I love you” pass her lips for real.

And considering there was no-one and nothing there right and then to disprove his theory, Hiccup found himself quickly falling into the easiest and deepest sleep he’d had in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consent is important even if you're super horny kids
> 
> me planning the outline of the story: okay so this is only gonna be a couple of thousand words tops so we can tag it into another chapter  
also me: *writes five thousand words and makes it long enough to be its own chapter*  
also me: fack
> 
> Sinclair Girnigoe Castle had actually been a ruin for well over 200 years by 1908 but dragons didn't actually exist in real life either so dramatic licence I guess?
> 
> chapter title is from 'mercury' by sleeping at last, their whole 'atlas: space' album is gorgeous and will bless your ears if you're interested
> 
> thank you to all of you lovely people who had left kudos and comments so far, it really means the world to me ❤️


	7. and this is how it starts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the eagle-eyed among you will have noticed that I have changed the date of the trappers scene at the very start of the work - this is because it worked out better to have the trappers be on a shorter timeline than I originally planned. that’s just the consequence of writing and posting chapters one at a time rather than as one big work but it doesn’t make that much difference so we’ll just move past it (!)
> 
> (to save you having to go back and look at it, for context: first scene with the hunters now also takes place in October 1907, approximately five months ago in the story’s timeline)
> 
> this is a big one, folks. get ready.

_cw: murder; physical violence (this is where we see the other side of the M rating); ableist slur; blood; vomit [all only in the fourth and final section of the chapter]_

**MARCH 1908**  
**Scottish Highlands**

Hiccup left Caithness a few days later with a sense of contentedness in his chest. The time with James and his family had been refreshing in a way he wasn’t really able to describe, and though he missed his friends he enjoyed the time where he was not Hiccup but instead Chief Hugh. The Sinclairs were welcoming and kind, and as he toured round some of the clan with James and George, he felt reassurance in his decision to leave those of his clan who were to remain in their care. There were centuries of good relations between them, of course, but on a personal level he felt a strong connection to the other clan, and as he waved goodbye at the end of the bridge on the final morning it was not without a feeling of sadness, an acknowledgment that he would miss his friends here too.

The journey back was long and quiet, and gave him time to reflect on his jumbled thoughts. Getting away from the house and the underlying tension with Astrid had been a good decision, and the fresh air of the North Sea had helped him reach some clarity with all that had gone on between them. Finally, he had been able to find peace in her decision to leave, even if he didn’t want it. At the end of the day, if she were to stay he wanted it to be on her own terms, not because he’d guilted her into it. A pang of shame rose in his chest as he recalled his first morning in Caithness, when he’d woken up and had to dealt with the consequences of his actions the previous night. He turned his thoughts to the details of the upcoming days in an attempt to negate the nervousness in his chest. It mostly worked, and the guilt of his actions had abated almost entirely by the time he returned home.

The sun was setting behind the house as he directed the horses and carriage up to the doors, a brilliant palette of orange and yellow and pink around the silhouette of the roof above him and for a moment, Hiccup allowed himself to stand and admire the simplicity of the beauty in front of him before quickly removing his luggage to the front step and then leading the horses off to the small stable around the corner. He took his time brushing them down, ensuring they were well cared for and had been given enough to eat, taking as much as giving. Being around animals had always been a comfort for him, and the horses were gentle creatures who showed nothing but affection towards him.

It was almost entirely dark by the time he let himself into the house, smiling as he caught the sound of laughter and a crackling fire coming from the library. Dropping his bags to the floor by the stairs, he carefully followed the noise into the adjoining room.

The room was warm from the fire, a pleasant contrast from the gnawing cold of the carriage and stables, and as he poked his head round the door he saw the others - even the twins - gathered together on the floor next to the grate engrossed in a game of cards. A gasp of laughter erupted among them all, and the sound warmed his heart more than any fire could ever do. It had only been a few days, but he had missed all of them dearly, a feeling exacerbated by the emotional distance he’d had with all of them even before he’d left for Caithness.

He was stood there, smiling gently at the closest thing he had to a family, for a little while before the others noticed his presence.

“H! You’re back!”

He came back to reality suddenly, eyes refocusing on his friends to find them all smiling up at him from the other side of the room. He nodded, a great smile creeping uncontrollably across his face.

“I missed you all so much,” he said simply.

They got to their feet as one, all five bounding over to greet him. Fishlegs went in for a hug first, followed closely by Tuffnut; as Tuff stepped back from their embrace, Hiccup’s gaze fell on Astrid and for a second, the world condensed to the space between them. His eyes roamed her face, and he felt blessed relief in his chest as she smiled warmly at him. The damage between them was not yet completely fixed, but the look in her eyes told him that he was forgiven. That was all he needed to stride over and take her in his arms, head dropping briefly to her shoulder as he felt her warmth come up against him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear, keen to keep their interaction private.

“Me too,” she replied. “But it doesn’t matter now.” She stepped back to hold him at arms length. “It’s good to have you home.”

* * *

It was getting easier.

While Hiccup had been away, the others had rallied together and made a start on the final stages of packing for their journey. They were leaving a few things behind, so that members of the Clan who were remaining behind would be able to use the manor house to their advantage, but by and large most of the more valuable possessions had either been sold or were in the process of being sold in order to generate the money needed to help fund the news lives of the clan. There were a handful taking the chance to radically change their lives and move abroad to Australia and Canada, but it had surprised all of them to learn that most of those who were leaving the Highlands simply wished to move to Edinburgh and experience city life, more often than not for the first time. It was uplifting to see such vibrancy and excitement in the faces of those they waved off.

The other side of the various sales and redistribution was that the house now felt very empty as Astrid moved through the halls with a box perched on her hip that evening. They were planning to leave the next day, the journey to Edinburgh via Inverness likely to take all the daylight available to them and then some, and their group had been frantically flying around the house and the estate for the last few days ensuring all the things they needed were packed in time. In the last hour, Astrid had gone around and collected random objects lying around the house to return them to their owners; the other four now reunited with their objects, she raised a first and knocked gently on Hiccup’s door. A shout inviting her to enter came through the wood a few seconds later.

“Oh, thank you, Astrid,” Hiccup smiled as she came around the door, before moving over to take his possessions from her. He lifted a small leather purse out of the box she offered to him. “I was wondering where that had gone.”

“Well, the twins had hidden it downstairs, but you’re in luck: this time there wasn’t any mysterious gunk in it.”

She laughed as Hiccup shuddered a little as he recalled the memory. “Don’t remind me. I can still remember the consistency of it. Ugh.”

“They’re harmless, really. Well, mostly.”

“You say that now, wait ‘till they start playing jokes on you.”

“They wouldn’t dare, they’re too scared of me to try anything,” she said proudly, a satisfied smirk twitching her lips upwards.

Hiccup laughed, an easy sound that had become somewhat unfamiliar to her in recent weeks. “Good point, well made.” He moved over to his suitcase, open on the bed with the last few items of clothing to be packed next to it. “It’s amazing how much it all packs down, isn’t it? All of our possessions fitting into such a small space.”

Astrid moved across to sit on the floor next to the small fireplace. “It really makes you remember the value of things you can’t pack in a suitcase,” she reflected softly.

Staring into the fire, she only heard him turn to face her. “Like a house,” he said in a similar timbre. “Or a horse. Or friends.”

A few seconds of silence extended between them

“You know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” she said softly, looking up over her shoulder at him. “You’ve still got time to change your mind.”

He shook his head. “We’re only going for a little while,” he said, eyes locked on the embers behind her. “We’ll be back.”

A note of surprise rose in her chest. “You’ve decided, then? You’re not going to stay in America?”

He nodded, moving to sit next to her as he spoke. “I want to get away, see the world, learn some new things and maybe create some things too. But at the end of it, I want to be able to come back to my own bed, to my land, to what I know. It won’t be in the same capacity, and I’ll have to find a job, probably spend more time in Edinburgh, but I’ll be here, you know? In my space. Where I’m happy.”

His face brightened as he spoke, and by the end he was smiling widely at her, a sight that warmed her beyond explanation. Though their relationship was not yet fully mended, the ease of conversation between them had returned and now she was even happier of the decision she had made. She still felt sadness at it, at the consequences it would have, but it was gratifying to know he was happy, made her so glad that she would get to see that all the time when they were travelling together-

_Wait. _

_That’s not right._

_I’m going back to Sweden, right?_

“Astrid?” He’d caught her staring intently at the fire.

_I’m leaving. I need to get that in my head._

She shook her head to clear that train of thought and looked up to meet his gaze. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little tired,” she managed to mumble, feigning a yawn.

He smiled. “I sympathise greatly. It was an early start this morning to get back. But it was worth it, to get back to you all.” His hand gently extended out until his thumb was able to rub smoothly over the back of her knuckles.

It took her a second to register the presence of his skin against hers, so unexpected was the gesture. With a start, she snatched her hand away, too confused by the emotions his touch prompted.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I’m just-”

“No, I get it,” he replied, withdrawing his hand. “Big day tomorrow, and all that.”

“Wouldn’t want to oversleep, might miss the train-”

“Yeah.”

Hiccup looked at her for a few more seconds with an expression she was too tired to decipher, before smiling at her one more time. “Shall I walk you to the door, milady?”

Heat rose in her cheeks, and she smiled in return. “That would be lovely.”

He rose to his feet, before leaning down and offering her a hand up; she took it gladly, rising to stand next to him, only inches between them. For a second longer than she intended, she watched his face closely, the way his lips parted slightly and his breath came a little more harshly than it had done a second ago. And she wanted to lean in and kiss the nervousness off his face, but even as she started to close her eyes and lean in, Fishlegs’ words echoed around in her skull again and again, and she withdrew before she fully committed. Instead, she watched his lips duck down to press softly against her knuckles.

“Goodnight, Hiccup,” she whispered.

He stared hard at her before replying. “Goodnight, Astrid,” he responded in a neutral voice.

It was much later that night, just before she fell asleep, that she wondered if he’d really meant to kiss her properly instead.

* * *

The morning of their departure to Edinburgh dawned bright but predictably chilly, even though spring was getting underway. The frosty top layer of snow crunched under Hiccup's feet as he left the house just after dawn, a sound as comforting as the sight of his breath frosting in front of him as he moved swiftly through the gardens. Their house and lands had never been large, not since the time their ancestors had first claimed this land for Clan Haddock or any day since, but they had never wanted for anything with it, and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about giving it all to someone else’s keeping, even temporarily. He trusted James beyond a shadow of a doubt, but that didn’t stop the potential of others from sneaking in to claim some undefended and very viable farmlands that were very close to Skye, small a likelihood though that might be.

It wasn’t simply the monetary value of the land he was leaving behind, either, he mused as he rounded the corner into the small copse. It was his legacy, his ancestry.

It was the emotional significance of leaving his father’s grave to someone else's safekeeping.

Stoick's stone was clearly the newest among the cluster of Clan Haddock stones, though the first few lines of text were obscured by a light dusting of snow that had gathered over the last few days. It didn’t matter; Hiccup could recite the words perfectly, burned into his memory as they were.

_ **An t-àite-fois mu dheireadh aig Stoick, Ceannard Chlann Haddock, gaisgeach, ceann-cinnidh, athair, caraid** _

“_Hi, Dad_,” he said softly. “_I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit as often recently; we've just been so busy getting everything ready._”

The gravestone paled as the sun shifted from behind a cloud and the world momentarily became a little brighter than before.

“_Being Chief isn’t what I expected it to be at all. It’s so much more work than I thought - I don’t know how you dealt with it. I want to do what’s right by our people, and I believe I am doing it, I really do. The world’s changing, and I want to give them the best chance at what’s coming next. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling people_.” He sank onto his knees. “_The truth is, I don’t want to be Chief at all, Dad. I hate it. Of course, I want to protect our own, but beyond that, all the power plays and the politics - it’s infuriating. It’s not what chiefs are supposed to do. Can you blame me for not wanting to be part of it?_” The wind blew a few flakes of snow into his hair; he shook his head to be rid of them before running his fingers through his locks. “_I don’t like the feeling that I’m abandoning everything - my responsibilities, our people, our legacy - but you told me to be happy, Dad. And I don’t feel I can be happy here. Not at the moment, at least. This trip, it’s just temporary, a short term thing. But I need to do it. For me. I hope you can understand that_.”

He cast his gaze skywards, to where the clouds rolled over from the sea out to the west, from the darkest grey to the palest white, all mixed together as they danced across the heavens, directing Hiccup’s gaze towards his new destination on the far horizon. A dream become reality.

“_It’s not just me going, though. Fishlegs and the twins, even Snotlout, they’re all coming too. Despite everything, they still want to be my friends, and they’re good people and I’m so lucky to have them.” _He snorted_. “Not that I’d ever tell Snotlout that_.”

His thoughts shifted to the sixth member of their little group, and his face broke into a brilliant smile. “_And Astrid. God, Dad, she’s so amazing. You’d be so impressed with her, the person she’s grown up to be. She’s funny and brave and clever and so beautiful that I don’t even know how to describe it. She means everything to me, Dad. I love her so much. If, by some miracle, she ever agreed to marry me, and we ever have children, you’d be the first to know, I promise. I’d keep it all, you know - the title, the peerage, the duties - if that was the price of having her in my life. I’d pay it gladly and never complain._” The smile faded as quickly as it had arisen, his gaze dropping to the ground below. “_And it kills me that she won’t be coming with us. I wish she could, but her father insists that she has to go back to Sweden, and in all likelihood I’ll never see her again after she leaves. I’ll never get to tell her how I feel, and we’ll both end up married to other people and it’ll never be. I mean, that’s if she even feels the same way I do, which is unlikely. I mean, I’m me and she’s Astrid._”

He looked back up to where his father’s name was engraved. “_But I love her. With everything I am. And that’s got to count for something, right? I should feel lucky that I got to know love like that, even if it’s not requited, right? I should feel lucky that she came back for me as a friend, more than anything. Even if she never loves me like I love her, there is no question that she still cares for me. And that might be enough. I hope it will be, anyway_.”

No more words came to him after that, and he sat there in silence for a long while, thinking and processing and planning and hoping, until the cold finally bit him to the bone and he felt the urge to return back to the house and assist with the final stages of packing.

He rose from his knees to standing, dusting off the snow that had settled on his shoulders and arms. “_I will be back, Dad. I promise. I hope I make you proud. I hope it’s enough_.”

He took one final long glance at the stone, before turning on his heel and leaving the copse with a contented sense of finality.

The gardens were quiet on the way back to the house, the snow absorbing many of the noises of the farm in the distance, but his thoughts deafened even those soft sounds that made it through, thought after thought turning over in his head. Was he doing the right thing? Could this be a dreadful mistake? Were his friends being stupid enough to follow him? Did Astrid-?

_Astrid._

Oh, fuck, even just thinking her name made his heart hurt. He’d never wish for anything other than the way things had gone, but the truth of it was that having her here was both the most blissful wonder and the most excruciating sensation at the same time. He loved her so much, had loved her for years, even as a child, even when she’d been miles and miles away in Sweden. And here she was, grown up and with a smart head on her shoulders and a fury in her eyes that he dared not get in the way of.

And she was leaving him again. He understood her reasons, just about respected them, but that didn’t mean it didn’t break his heart to think that in a few days he’d lose her all over again, and he’d be fifteen once more - pining for a woman he could never love truly and completely. But this time he didn’t have his father to help him through his heartbreak. This time he was on his own and it was making him miserable, even though he still had a couple more precious days before he really had to say goodbye.

He rounded a corner into the central part of the gardens, where the benches and archways were intertwined with the bare branches of wisteria plants that bloomed a magnificent shade of purple in the summer, and slowed his footsteps slightly, turning to look at the layer of snow on top of the birdbath in the centre of the circle. His hands gripped the stone edges.

The crux of the matter was whether she felt the same way. And no matter how he spun their interactions around in his head, he could never come to a firm conclusion either way. That, more than anything that had happened between them, ate away at him the most.

“Hiccup?”

_Speak of the devil…_

He turned on his heel, and for a second found himself unable to form words.

It wasn’t the soft blue of her coat that matched his green too similarly to be a coincidence. It wasn’t the soft rustle of her skirts dragging along through the snow, the sound quickly absorbed by the light fall around them. It wasn’t even her hair, tucked away under her white hood except for those few stubborn strands that refused to obey.

It was the soft rush of pink in her cheeks risen by the cold, and it was the way her hands balled and relaxed by her sides, and it was the way she walked with nervous confidence, and it was the way-

And it was the way her lips stood bright pink against the world of white that surrounded them.

The way they formed his name.

“I’m okay,” he managed to stutter out as she drew up next to him, answering her unasked question.

“You look cold.”

“It’s March. We’re in Scotland.”

“You’re shivering.”

“That’s got nothing to do with the cold.”

It was only one step that brought her within inches of his chest.

“I’m just going to ask one more time: are you sure you’re okay with all this? Leaving your home and emigrating to another country? No one will blame you if you change your mind or delay it a while.”

He shook his head and laughed with her as one of the snowflakes he dislodged landed right on the end of her nose. Ever so softly, before reason had a chance to ask him what he was doing, on instinct he leant in and kissed it off her, relishing the cold of melting ice followed by the warmth of her skin as much as the soft sound of her inhale at his touch. He withdrew to look her in the eye, hands hanging loosely by his sides. Fuck it. He’d already probably crossed a point of no return here. He had to at least try to tell her how he felt, right?

“I’m fine with whatever happens,” he said quietly. “As long as I have you to counsel me.”

“Is that all you see in me?” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Your counsel? The grown-up version of a girl you played with when you were a child?”

A soft chuckle rose from the back of his throat. “Not even close, milady.”

Even through his gloves, he felt the tentative pressure of one of her hands seeking his own. His heart leapt in his chest.

“What am I to you, then?” Astrid asked.

They were so close now, barely a handspan between them, that their icy exhales mixed together in the cool air. He tried not to let it get to him, tried to make himself not get excited in anticipation of what this _might_ be, what _could_ happen. But it was a losing battle, and one that he was struggling to lose gracefully with each passing second as his coherence melted away, leaving one single thought upon which he could possibly act.

“You are… everything to me.”

“Hiccup...”

A shiver ran down his spine. “I missed you so much, Astrid. I missed you every day we were apart. And now we’re together and I don’t think I could bear missing you again.”

So, so close to the heart of what he really wanted to say to her, to make her understand.

Not close enough, though.

“I missed you too,” Astrid whispered back.

Or was it?

For a second, they hovered inches away from one another, eyes darting across the other's face in search of clues, confirmation that what they felt was reciprocated, that they had nothing to fear. Hiccup tried to focus on her eyes, tried to move his mouth to make words that could articulate what he was feeling, and failed when he couldn’t move beyond the sight of her slightly parted lips that moved closer and closer every second, and the only thought that formed in his head was a simple _please please please please please_.

Astrid gave in first, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down to her lips in one fluid movement.

That first touch alone nearly broke him. He sobbed in relief at the feel of her against him and brought his hands to her hips, grasping them gently as she pulled herself in closer. It was exactly like he’d imagined – except a thousand times better in every way.

Neither of them knew what they were doing, in truth, and it was messy and discoordinated and imperfect, but it was also warm and passionate and perfect in every way as far as Hiccup was concerned. Astrid moved his hands up to make him cup her face; in turn, her own dropped to his waist and pulled him flush against her. His fingertips searched gently into her hairline, his mouth eager and willing to take whatever she offered. Even through his gloves, he could feel the warmth of her cheeks and was torn between taking them off to feel her properly and being unwilling to sacrifice the loss of contact with her face for even a second.

Slowly, she began to move, walking him forwards as she stepped back in tandem, until he felt them collide softly with the wooden support of the arch behind her. This new position clearly appealed to Astrid, who whimpered softly and clutched her fingers tighter in the coat on his back.

After a completely indeterminable length of time, she finally broke away, gasping for air. Hiccup made to follow, but her hands found his chin again and directed him to the soft skin of her neck and jaw instead.

“Come with me,” he whispered, lips travelling up her cheek to the shell of her ear on instinct. “When I thought of this plan there was no version of it without you. At my side. With me. Always.”

He felt her shaky breath against his cheek. “Hiccup…”

“Who cares what your parents says? You should marry who you want to, because you love them, not because some male relative dictates it to you. I get that freedom; why shouldn’t you?”

Astrid’s words were more a mumbled sigh than actual words, but her fingers in his hair indicated that she wasn’t unhappy with the way things were. Riding his luck, Hiccup opened his mouth and let the unabridged truth flow.

“I love you, Astrid. I’ve loved you since we were children. And I’ve loved you even more than I thought I could since you came back.” He kissed the lobe of her ear.

“Hiccup-”

He pulled back and cupped her face anew, eyes searching her face in earnest. “You don’t need to say it back, and you don’t need to agree to marry me here and now. Just know that the option is here for you. And know that you will never need to doubt me in anything. In my love for you, in my dedication, anything. Or think that you owe me anything. Just having you with me is enough for now.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her arms winding around his neck. “Thank you for that. Thank you for everything.”

“Will you come with me? Please?” he whispered. It was a plea, plain and simple; a metaphorical outstretching of his hand, waiting to see if she would pull him up or throw him further from the cliff he’d just jumped off.

In the second or so it took for her to respond, time stood still around them, stretching that second out into infinity where nothing existed except for him and Astrid and the way they were stood together and how her lips were bare inches from his own and how he now knew what they felt like against his skin. And then one word from her broke him from his eternal reverie.

“Yes.”

Hiccup couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll come with you, Hiccup. And yes to this too.”

As Astrid’s lips claimed his own once more, Hiccup felt a brightness in his chest bloom that no-one, no matter what, could ever, ever put out. He was kissing the love of his life, and she was agreeing to run away with him from the restrictions of the lives they’d been born into, and nothing, absolutely nothing, could go wrong.

* * *

**Greenland**

They had been waiting to make landfall for several days now, waiting for a window in the howling wind and biting cold through which they could dart and reach the coast. The crew meandered on deck like caged cats, desperate to be set free from their wooden prison and be safe on land once again.

Gideon found himself excited and terrified in equal measure when the fog finally cleared and the path to the shore was revealed, along with the lights of the settlement they were soon to call home, though he’d never admit it to another living soul.

He’d been in command a scant three weeks, and knew he had to earn it. Zach had not been the overall master of this venture; that responsibility and honour apparently fell to someone else. When Gideon had tried to enquire about the nature of his new master soon after their first encounter with the beasts, Zach had simply shot him a look and told him not to ask questions. Again, Gideon asked; again, he received the same response. After a third attempt to glean the information, Zach had pulled his pistol and put Gideon in his place.

This could not stand, of course. But Gideon knew that a more opportune moment would come to enact his retaliation. And there had still been much to learn.

They had started in Canada, at the camp where Zach and his men had contained the monstrous beast they’d seen in the sky. Over the next few days, they learned all they could take in about the beasts – _dragons_, Zach had called them.

The stuff of fairy tales and folk lore no longer, it seemed.

There were three dragons that had been trapped by this particular camp; a large orange thing that could set its skin on fire, the first one they had seen in the sky when they first arrived; a smaller brown thing that looked like a boulder with eyes and wings; and one that seemed hardly larger than an overgrown lizard, but scampered about almost quickly enough that they could not catch it. It took a few days for the shock to wear off, and Gideon was the first of their group to have the courage to approach the dragons.

Over the next four months, they worked in teams to hunt and capture more dragons, and discovered more than they could ever have put in chains; all different colours and sizes, from the lizard-sized to ones as long as a house was tall and then some. They even saw a colossal beast briefly emerge from a coastal lake to scream into the sky before ducking away under the midnight blue waters.

Capturing the beasts was a difficult task. Zach had informed them of a poison that could be made into a mild sedative that took all but the largest dragons out in a matter of seconds. Once the beast had fallen to the ground, the hunters raced forward and wrapped them in steel chains, taking extra care to secure the muzzles, lest the dragons retaliate with their deadly fire and burn them. Sometimes they did not use enough of the sedative, and the dragons managed to fight their way to freedom before Gideon and the others could secure them. Nevertheless, they persisted and by the end of February they had managed to secure an additional six dragons on top of the three they already had contained. On the capture of the ninth dragon Zach had smiled and informed their group that this was sufficient for their quota, and that they could now begin the next stage of their journey.

Travelling with them had been even more tiring - and expensive. They were a scant twenty miles from the coast, but everything had to be lugged manually across fields and forests as they followed the river to the open ocean, including the dragons. There was no way to contain them, but equally they could not be allowed to take to the sky and be lost back into the wilderness, and so Gideon had watched as the lone fire-skin picked off their companions while they desperately wrestled to keep its wings tied on their slow march. Once the two dozen or so hunters that remained had reached their ship and loaded the beasts into the hold, too drugged to fight back, their journey became easy. Well, easier.

It was that first evening on the water, sailing off into the freezing North Atlantic, that Zach had finally entrusted them with the more pertinent information that until that point had been withheld from them.

Dragons existed. Dragons were not a figment of the imagination, but an ancient species that had been believed to have gone extinct a thousand years ago - in this part of the world, at least. There were many stories about what had happened - had they been hunted to obscurity? Sealed away for their own good? - but everyone had agreed that there were no longer any dragons. That was, until a few years ago, when the winged beasts had made a sudden reappearance.

When Zach had gone north to Canada after the war, he’d made contact with some men who had seen the dragons with their own eyes and between them they had come up with a plan to make money. Lots of money. They had passed instructions on to Zach and the other three lieutenants who had joined them: collect and trap as many dragons as they were able, and bring them to a small settlement on the east coast of Greenland for a reward. That was all the information Gideon needed.

That night, Gideon had slipped into Zach’s cabin while everyone slept. Zach had only struggled against the pillow for a few seconds before asphyxiation had taken him, quickly and silently.

Gideon had felt a wild sense of excitement in tipping his former friend’s body over the side into the freezing water.

That same excitement bit his heart in his chest as the shoreline drew closer and closer. Beneath decks, one of the dragons yelped, before squealing off into nothing as it was freshly tranquilised. His companions had taken to his leadership with great enthusiasm; many of them had seen Zacharias as a weak leader and welcomed Gideon’s new and more violent turn at the helm.

The feeling of earth and snow under his feet once more was welcomed, and he instructed half of his group to wait with the boat and its precious cargo while the other half flanked him, walking in close formation as they approached the camp a few hundred metres away.

The settlement was quiet, though not devoid of life in any sense. All around them, men and women alike emerged from tents and hastily constructed huts to get a glimpse of Gideon and his hunters as they made their way to the centre of the camp, clearly marked by a circle of torches and a tent that was easily three or four times the size of any other they had seen, and many of them fell into step behind Gideon’s group.

In the centre of the circle, a great table under a shelter came into view, surrounded by five or six people who turned around at the noise of a great crowd approaching. As Gideon and his group moved towards the centre of the open space, the others filed in around the edges, clearly eager to witness what was about to happen. Two people stepped forwards from the table; as they pushed their hoods down Gideon saw they were both men, one far taller than Gideon, one far shorter.

They stopped walking six feet away from each other.

Gideon drew himself up to his full height and puffed his chest out. “I am here with a delivery of dragons from northern Québec.”

“You have come from Québec? Where is Zacharias Flint?” the shorter of the two asked in an accent Gideon couldn’t place. _Probably some pompous European_.

“He was no longer an effective commander,” Gideon replied, keeping his voice smooth and steady. “He was relieved of his command. I am in charge here now.”

“Is that what you think?” There was a glint in the man’s eye that Gideon couldn’t discern. It radiated authority, prowess. It stunk of one-upmanship, and it set his temper aflame.

“That’s what it is,” Gideon snapped back, refusing to be intimidated. “All the dragons and the people in this camp are now under my control. If you don’t like it, I’m sure I can find a bullet with your name on it.”

There was a few seconds of silence, and then the surrounding crowd burst into laughter. Gideon simpered at the humiliation.

“My dear man, I do believe you are rather unfortunately mistaken,” the shorter man smiled as the laughter died down.

“And why would that be?”

“We certainly welcome ambition here - it’s people with ambition who are the most successful in this world, the ones who will do anything to see that justice is done. But you misunderstand, I am afraid. There is no opening for leadership. You and your crew are welcome to join our ranks and assist us in our preparations, but please be under no misguided preconception that you are in charge here.” His voice, though calm and smooth, was laced with venom and threat that Gideon, in his arrogance, failed to pick up on.

“What if I wanted to be?” Gideon snarled. “What if I were to take my pistol and put a bullet in your head right now?”

The taller man stepped forward at this, pulling a two-handed staff from his back. Gideon stood strong initially, ready to reach for his pistol at his waist, but before he could so much as twist his fingers towards the weapon a dull blow struck him between his shoulder blades. He fell with a shout to the floor, hands scrunching in the snow beneath them, and made to stand back up, only for a boot to appear from nowhere and make contact with his stomach. Fists, boots, something that felt like a bone; they pounded on him relentlessly until the short man spoke again from somewhere above him.

“I feel that may suffice for now, brother.”

All at once, the abuse ceased, and Gideon lurched forward from where he had been curled up on the ground to vomit a small amount of blood into the snow.

“I trust there will be no further misunderstanding of the nature of the command structure here.” The smugness carried even in the man's inflection.

Gideon lifted his head and looked at the blurry image in the distance that he assumed was the man. “Fuck you.”

“Oh dear. Don’t make me have to ask these gentlemen to give you another lesson today. I assure you, you will enjoy it even less than this one.”

Gideon held his gaze on the man for the next few seconds, weighing up his options, considering the most likely scenarios of each of his possible responses. And then he hung his head in submission.

“_Fine_.” The word left his mouth like an expletive.

“I knew you’d come around,” the man smiled. “All men tend to, when the weight of their own mortality falls on their shoulders.” He looked across at the remainder of Gideon’s group. “Welcome all. Thank you for the safe delivery of such precious cargo. I trust you all to draw the correct conclusions from your former leader’s misdemeanors; I wouldn’t want any of you to make the same mistakes as he did. Blood is so hard to work out of cloth, after all.”

“Who in God’s name are you people?” one of Gideon’s sailors called, aghast.

“Fuck your god. There’s only one name that should matter to you now,” the taller man snarked.

“And what would that be, _sir_?” Gideon spat a mouthful of blood and spit onto the snow, defiant even in defeat.

“Oh my! Did Zacharias not tell you? I can’t say I’m surprised; between you and me, he was always a little soft in the head.” The shorter man dropped to one knee and roughly grabbed Gideon’s chin in a manner that was completely at odds with the rest of his elegant tone, forcing him to make eye contact with a pair of brown eyes- well, they would both have been brown if not for the scar that carved down the left side of the man’s face, including a now partially-blinded eye. The man’s lips curled into a smile.

“The name is Viggo Grimborn. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look, a rock...


	8. a melody of reformation

**MARCH 1908**   
**Scottish Highlands**

There was something about mountains that took Hiccup’s breath away every time.

Maybe it was the way the mist crested and rolled silently down the crags like liquid silver; maybe it was the way the western faces shone pale cream and green and orange in the afternoon sunshine, made even brighter by the deep grey of the storm clouds that silhouetted them to the east; the sight of the Cairngorms held him captive for longer than he could accurately judge and made a deep part of his soul wish he never had to look away.

The train had left Inverness just before lunchtime and was currently trundling south towards the capital at a reasonable pace; they hoped to be installed in the house not long before dinner time. The smell of coal burning drifted through the slightly open window and warmed Hiccup’s chest, a familiar scent throughout his life as he and his father travelled back and forth between Edinburgh on clan business. For the hours they wiled away on the train, they played card games and read books, joking and laughing without a care in the world. It had been a time when, despite the broader reason for their trips, Stoick had been Hiccup’s father before anything else, his attention focused solely and willingly on his only son.

For a second, Hiccup’s heart panged for home.

The clan had seen them off that morning - well, what remained of it. Most of the clansmen that were leaving had already departed; although a few stragglers would follow them in the coming days after Hiccup’s group set off south to the capital. He, Astrid and the others were to stay there for a few weeks, tying up the final loose ends and organising their affairs before setting off to Glasgow, from which they would set sail out to the west. There was lots to be done - procuring the ship they were to sail, ensuring they had suitable supplies for their journey, organising the upkeep of the house in Edinburgh in their absence - but he was more than confident the time would fly by. The company made it easier, of course.

Taking a break from the window, Hiccup did a quick sweep of the carriage. To his right, Snotlout was fast asleep and drooling onto his own shoulder; he’d claimed the spot next to Hiccup in an attempt to avoid the twins’ antics, though as it turned out he need not have bothered. Tuffnut too was fast asleep, head drooping onto his sister who in turn was fiddling absentmindedly with a small length of rope and humming what Hiccup recognised as an old lullaby they’d sung as children under her breath. On her other side, Fishlegs was deeply engrossed in a book on botany, lips moving silently as he read and digested the words in front of him; Hiccup could almost see the cogs in his head turning. The atmosphere was calm and content - an unusual occurrence given the twins’ penchant for causing mischief and the general sense of excitement among them all in the past few days at the prospect of their onward journey - but it warmed his chest to know that they were happy too.

Satisfied that they were all happy left to their own devices, he let himself look across at Astrid, whose head was resting gently against the window pane as her eyes flickered across the hills, and despite the immortal natural beauty of the world outside, for a second she was all he saw.

The happiness their conversation had instilled in him was beyond expression. Having her so close and the two of them finally being on the same page about their future, he felt like he could do anything. Leaning in to press a kiss to her temple, he felt Ruff titter from across the compartment, but felt no shame in it. He loved her; that wasn’t about to change any time soon. The others would simply have to get used to it.

The pressure against her skin drew Astrid from her own fixation on the mountains outside, and as she noticed him looking at her in the reflection in the glass, her lips broke into a broad smile. Without shifting her gaze, her hand gently snaked down into the small gap between their thighs and wrapped his hand up in her own, pulling it to rest against her chest.

A warmth blossomed in his heart, and he couldn’t help but lean in to press his lips to her hair once more. Content, she settled back into his chest, pulling his arms around her more tightly, and together they sat and continued to silently watch the world go by.

* * *

**Edinburgh**

The Scottish capital was filled with noise and vivacity in a way that made Astrid’s heart sing. On disembarking the train, she found the station to be smoky and bustling with trolleys and boxes of mail and people everywhere, and despite the chaos she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as they weaved through the crowds to the outside. Predictably, the heavens had opened on their final approach to the city, so they managed to squeeze all six of them and their luggage into a carriage outside the station before setting off through the Old Town to the Clan Haddock house on the other side of the castle.

There were street performers and artists and bagpipe players; there were small stores selling gifts and soapboxes with small crowds around them; there were gorgeous buildings and wide open parks and Astrid couldn’t help but let her jaw hang in awe. She hadn’t been here since arriving from Sweden all those months ago, and that had been late in the evening and in a great rush to make the train from the docks, with neither the time nor the light to make close observation of the scenery around her. Now, as the carriage wove through the streets, she let her jaw hang open in adoration as the city expanded around them, barely even aware of the way Hiccup smiled and kissed her cheek softly as she pointed with excitement at all the things she saw outside.

After a short while, the carriage came to a stop outside a great parade of houses overlooking a park.

Astrid turned to look at Hiccup expectantly.

“This is it,” he confirmed, barely containing his enthusiasm.

Across from them, Ruffnut elbowed a dozing Snotlout in the ribs. “Come on, man, we’re here,” she said as he spluttered and came to.

“Could’ve woken me up without bruising my diaphragm,” he muttered, rubbing his fists in his eyes.

“Oh, stop being such a baby.” Ruff rolled her eyes before opening the door and jumping out; the gang followed her one at a time. As Astrid exited the carriage, helped down by an eager Hiccup, she heard Fishlegs sigh.

“You know, I lived here for months, and I’m still taken away by how beautiful this house is.”

Astrid had to agree. Number 19, Glengyle Terrace was a glorious, towering terraced house with five floors and a lacquered black front door that opened out onto the wide street and across to the grass in front.

“I’ve been here every year since I was a kid and I’m still taken away by how loaded we are,” Ruffnut called; Astrid turned over her shoulder to see her and Hiccup unloading boxes from the back of the carriage. The rest of them turned to assist, and between them all, they managed to get all of their luggage into the house without it getting too damp in the already familiar drizzle.

Inside, the house seemed to go on forever. Each floor had bedrooms and a sitting room and great fireplaces, and downstairs the modest kitchen was warm and homely, covered in wood panels and very reminiscent of the slightly more dated rooms in Haddock Manor. They took their time exploring, investigating all the nooks and crannies that large houses like that were wont to have, but Astrid quickly found her favourite place of all of them: a sitting room on the first floor with a view out over the great park in front of them, which Fishlegs dutifully informed her was named The Meadows. It had once been a _**loch** _full of water, he explained, used as a drinking source for the population until piped water had become commonplace throughout the city; nowadays, it was a popular place for locals to sit on Sunday afternoons, and for several football teams to play regular matches. Keen to learn more about the city, Astrid asked more questions of him, and their planned exploration was quickly put to one side.

They were still there chatting as the sky slowly darkened outside, their conversation only interrupted to light the gas lamps in the room and make a fire, and also as the others finished their explorations and joined them. Astrid felt nothing but love for the people that sat with her and laughed and joked until tears ran from their eyes.

Notably absent were Hiccup and Tuffnut, but as if her softly growling stomach had summoned them, they appeared not long after Snotlout with arms full of food and a big sheet to sit and have a picnic on. It was a mismatch of food - fresh food they’d brought with them from the Highlands and dry goods that could be left in the house for weeks at at time - but they tucked in eagerly,

When they had eaten their fill, the lamps were burning low and Tuffnut was quickly fast asleep once more, dead to the world as Ruff and Snotlout took turns throwing the remaining bits of cheese into his mouth from across the room. Fishlegs had curled up in an armchair with yet another book, this time one he’d left behind in November, and Astrid sat by the fire with Hiccup’s head in her lap, her fingers absentmindedly brushing through his hair as her gaze was held captive by the dancing flames. Beside her, Hiccup and Fishlegs entered a light discussion regarding a detail in the book that interested them both, but Astrid’s attention and thoughts stayed with the fire - at least, until Snotlout managed to succeed in lobbing a piece of cheese right into Tuffnut’s nose, which caused him to wake with a yell. Astrid’s awareness shot back into the room as Ruff and Snot rolled around on the floor in laughter and Tuff desperately prodded at his nose in order to get the piece of cheese out.

She wasn’t even looking at Hiccup, and yet she _knew_ he was rolling his eyes. That more than anything else set her off giggling as well.

Several minutes later, when the piece of cheese had successfully been removed from Tuff’s nostril, Hiccup sat upright and called everyone’s attention.

“I know most of you have been here before; you guys happy to be in the same rooms as normal?”

“Are you kidding? Getting to be in a different room to Ruff? It’s like Christmas has come early.”

“Watch it, brother mine, or there’s more cheese where that came from-”

“Fishlegs,” Hiccup said loudly in an attempt to move the conversation on. “Are you happy in your old space?”

“Yep!” Fishlegs nodded happily. “Need me to clear my university stuff out of the room next door?”

“Nah, unless Snotlout has major objections to being on the same floor as the twins?”

Snotlout shrugged. “If they’re gonna prank me, being on a different floor to them isn’t going to stop them. Sure.”

“Great. You guys can have the top floor to yourself then. Astrid, you can have the spare room on this floor, if that’s okay with you?”

She nodded, smiling softly at him. He held her gaze and returned her smile, the two of them lost in each other until one of the others got fed up with waiting and coughed obnoxiously.

“Well, the night is still young,” Hiccup said, face tinging slightly pink as he turned back to the room. “What do you guys want to do? I think there’s some playing cards in a drawer somewhere-”

“Oh, I know what we’re doing this evening. Well, two of us anyway.” Ruffnut smiled and turned to look at Astrid, stretching her arms out above her head. “Astrid and I are going to have baths.”

* * *

Blessedly, the house had water taps, and though the water was not warm straight out of the tap and still had to be heated over the fire, it was far superior to fill a basin from the kitchen sink rather than lug it out in the rain to the water pump a few streets over, or have to trek out to the public baths the next day. Between them, Astrid and Ruff (with a little assistance from Hiccup, who insisted on helping) managed to fill the bucket in the kitchen sink and drag it up to the first floor sitting room, where it sat over the fire to warm up. While they waited, they all three sat together next to the fire and listened as Hiccup talked about all the inventions he’d like to install in the house at some point in the future - a pump for a shower; a hot water boiler; a telephone; even something called _electricity_, which he said was to replace candles and instead have light available at the flick of a switch. With his own minor tinkerings, of course, to make them more efficient.

It all sounded rather outlandish and futuristic to Astrid, but she listened with a smile on her face nonetheless.

When the water had heated up enough, between the three of them they hoisted the vat into the bathroom next door. Astrid felt the steam on her face as the water poured into the deep copper tub, and felt an anticipatory shiver run down her spine. The bucket set to one side for later (the water would be used to wash their clothes after she and Ruff had finished bathing), Astrid turned to face Hiccup, who was leaning against the doorframe. They shared a small, nervous smile that made her want to run over and scoop him up in her arms and pin him against a wall; now she had to work out how to politely dismiss him for the evening without tipping Ruff off to the underlying dynamic between them or upsetting him.

Thankfully, Ruff came to her rescue, stripping off all her layers except her cotton underdress while Hiccup was still in the room, before turning and smirking at him. “Out you go, H. Astrid and I have some things to attend to that don’t require your presence. Unless you want to join in.” She wiggled her eyebrows in a poor attempt at seduction.

Astrid bit back her laughter as Hiccup’s cheeks pinked up. _Poor man_. “Yes, uh, I guess I’ll, uh, go now. Uh…”

When the door shut behind him, the two women broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, he’s so easy to tease,” Ruff cackled. “Poor boy's never seen a naked woman in his life.” She loosened the neckties of her shift and moved to look in the mirror as she loosened her plaits. “Do you want to go first? Super hot water brings me out in hives and nobody wants to see that.”

Astrid nodded and started taking off her layers of clothing too. Being from a Swedish family, being naked around other women did not bother her at all, and Ruffnut was far closer in age than her mother and aunts whom she more often shared with. There was no need for her to wash her hair - she wasn’t due to wash it for another week or so - so she braided it back so that it wouldn’t get in the way as she bathed. The water was almost a touch too hot for her taste, but she fought through the bite of the heat and sank into the deep tub with a soft groan.

“Oh, that’s so good,” she breathed, stretching her legs out and feeling the warmth sink into her skin. “_Mmmm_.”

“That’s the nice thing about coming to Edinburgh,” Ruff chimed in from the chair across the room, where she was in the final stages of unravelling her hair. “Tuff has no excuse to stink when there’s this available to us, and the baths just down the road.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Nah.” Ruff shrugged. “Once a year, maybe? When Mum and Dad were ill, we barely came at all, ‘cause we had to look after them and the farm at the same time.”

“It must be so difficult, losing your parents so young.”

“Well, I miss them, yeah. Sometimes I really just want to hear Mum’s voice, and to go out into the fields and sling cow pats at Tuff with Dad. But I’ve still got Tuff, and Hiccup’s like a really, really bossy older brother, so we do okay. I will say, though, that it’s nice to _finally_ have some female company, though. I mean, you’re a bit bossy too, but you’re better than nothing.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome.”

Astrid closed her eyes and relaxed back into the water a bit more.

“What do you want to do in America? When we get there?” Ruffnut’s question came more quietly than Astrid had expected.

She opened one eye to look at her friend, who had rearranged herself to sit cross-legged in the chair with a thoughtful look on her face, fingers fiddling with the strands of hair that fell into her lap.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said honestly, looking up at the ceiling. “I’d like to get involved in politics, fight for the vote. It’s a big country, there’s a lot of people. That means there’s a lot to improve. I won’t just sit around and look pretty. I can change the world _and_ look pretty at the same time.”

“I’m sure they’ll be queueing up in their thousands to marry you. Both of us, for that matter.”

“Ugh. I can think of nothing worse. I’ll have to fight them all off individually and I do not have the time.”

“I feel you, sister. I got better things to do than deal with their little broken hearts.” Ruff threw her hair over her shoulder.

Astrid chuckled. “But, yeah. I want to try and do something meaningful. I want to use my privilege for a purpose. And I want to be happy. I don’t think we teach our girls that that’s something they deserve, but they do.”

Ruffnut nodded with a softness that Astrid did not expect from her.

“Anyway, I’ve rambled on. What about you? What do you want to do when we get to America?”

“Haven’t really thought about it,” Ruff smiled. “I guess I’ll just do things that make me happy until I find the one that makes me the happiest. Until then, I’ll carry on what makes me happy at the moment.”

“And that is?”

“Irritating the shit out of my brother.”

Astrid laughed out loud, hands coming up to cover her mouth as Ruff also burst into a fit of giggles.

“It’s really good having you here, Astrid,” Ruff said when they came to. “I really enjoy your company.”

“I enjoy yours.”

“I’m glad you decided to come with us in the end. I think I’d have murdered the boys if I’d had to spend several weeks in a boat with just them.”

“Oh, don’t encourage me.”

* * *

The warmth of the bath still clung to Astrid’s skin as she padded down the hall back to her bedroom, and she relished the smell of the soap on her body. Her room was at the end of the corridor, at the back of the house, but as she made to walk into her room a sound from the room opposite made her pause with her hand on the doorknob. She waited a few seconds, until it came again, unmistakably a smothered sob. Another few heartbeats and her decision was made, taking the three steps to cross the hall and knock softly on the door.

“Hiccup?”

There was a small pause in the noises within, and then a soft shuffling before she heard a croaky “come in”.

Gently, she pushed into the room, turning around quickly to shut the door and protect his privacy. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw him sat in a chair by a dwindling fire, dressed in just a shirt and trousers and with his eyes red from crying.

“What is it?” she breathed, flying over to his side and pulling his head into her stomach on instinct. His shaky hands rose to wrap around her waist, and she felt him exhale into her shirt. He made a sound like he was trying to speak, but instead his shoulders began to shake again. Hearing him sob made her want to tear up too, but she kept it together for him, stroking his hair softly as he cried himself out.

After a short while, his breathing evened out and he removed his face from the front of her dress. “Sorry, it’s just… been a lot today,” he mumbled, raising a hand from her waist to wipe his eyes.

Astrid shook her head. “Don’t apologise,” she said softly. “It’s perfectly natural to feel some conflict about all this. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it was to leave your dad behind today.”

He sniffed again. “I just…” His voice trailed off into nothing, and he stared hopelessly into the fire. She felt his hands gently move her round to stand more in front of him, but Astrid took it one step further, turning herself and sitting gently down across his lap so that their shoulders almost formed a right angle. “Is this okay?” she asked softly, biting her lip.

His eyes rose to meet hers. “This is good,” he agreed in a shaky, vulnerable voice.

She couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him gently then. It was that or cry with him. One hand came up to cup his cheek, the other maintaining her balance on his shoulder. In response, his hands tightened ever so slightly on her waist, adjusting her weight to a more comfortable position. The kiss was so light that their lips barely brushed, but neither of them moved to deepen it. It was bliss just experiencing it.

Astrid let Hiccup lead the kiss, and so when he pulled away after taking what he needed from it she made no move to follow; instead, she moved her hand to resume stroking softly through his long auburn locks.

“I feel like I’m letting everyone down,” he began, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve all but sent the clan away to be someone else’s problem so that I can do my own thing without feeling guilty. And with this trip - gah, I’m leading you all into ruin, I know it. We can’t guarantee we’ll find success in America. What if it doesn’t work out? Do I come back with my head hung in shame? To be the only Chief with no clan, to be whispered about and held up as an example of what not to do? And you guys, what will happen to you? You’re my responsibility, I can’t…” He trailed off, the fire reflected in his eyes turning his green irises a harsh orange. “There’s just so much that can go wrong. And I couldn’t bare it if anything happened to you because of me. Any of you.”

He leaned his head back into Astrid’s chest more.

Astrid chose her response carefully. “It’s okay to have doubts. It’s okay to be scared. What we’re doing isn’t a small thing, and you’re right, there are lots of things that could go wrong. But that doesn’t mean what we’re doing isn’t right. I know you worry whether you’re a good chief or not, but the truth is, you didn’t push the clansmen away, Hiccup. They were waiting to go. And that’s not because of anything you did, it’s just how the world is now. They have the highest respect for you. That much was clear even to me, and I don’t even speak Gaelic any more.”

She felt him chuckle; a small smile crept onto her face with her small success.

“With everything else…” She sighed. “I don’t know what will happen. No one does. But all we can do is try. If it works, great! If it doesn’t, we haven’t burned all our bridges here. I know it would be difficult for you to come back to the clan politics, so we could just move somewhere else and start new lives there. Newcastle, maybe, or Manchester. It doesn’t really matter - the point is we have options. Something will work out for us, for all of us.”

She gently turned his head up to make him look in the eye. “But whatever we choose to do, we’re not making that decision tonight. We have a few weeks to do that. Right now, you’re going to go to bed and get some sleep and take care of yourself.” She smiled before she said her next words. “I love you too much to let you do anything else.”

She saw his face brighten instantly at her words, as she knew it would. “You said it back,” he whispered. “You said it back.”

The wonder on his face was unmistakable, and Astrid couldn’t help but return the favour. She was glad she’d saved her words for now. “I did.”

“You love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you muttonhead.”

For the first time, Hiccup moved his head forward and kissed her before she could even lean in.

Her hands flew to cup his cheeks as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss beyond the simple touches they’d shared so far that day - _was it really only this morning that we first kissed_? Astrid wondered in her head. A second later, though, and she was too distracted to continue that train of thought; his hands wrapped tightly around her torso to draw her flush against his chest. His lips were warm and quick against her own, and for a moment she was lost in the sensation of it all, his breath hot on her cheeks and his hands fisted loosely in her nightgown.

A few more seconds, though, and the position became slightly uncomfortable; the way in which they were sat meant that Astrid had to crane her neck at an awkward angle to meet Hiccup’s lips. Following her instincts, she sat upright more, grudgingly breaking the kiss to shift her legs so that she straddled his lap. She had but an instant to remark that her parents would probably die of shock if they could see her right now, pressed up so close to a man that was not her husband, but then Hiccup let loose a growl from the back of his throat, and soft though it was, Astrid felt a warmth spark throughout her body at the noise. Reaching one hand round to the back of his neck, she drew their lips back together.

This new way of kissing gave Hiccup more access to her back, and he definitely made good use of the space he was offered. One hand held her hip, keeping her steady on his lap, but the other roamed free, tracing the planes of her back through the thin cotton shift. He started at the top of her spine and made his way down one ridge at a time until he came to the small of her back, where his hand flexed and inched her closer again before taking off upwards to reach into her hair. The feeling of his fist tightening in her unbraided hair was uniquely wonderful to Astrid, and she felt a small moan of her own slip free. Hiccup was rightfully encouraged by the noise, and held his hand there as his lips broke away from her own to trail down her neck to her collarbones.

“You’re so beautiful,” she felt him murmur against her skin. “Fuck, Astrid…” His head rolled back and his eyes closed as her hands came to rest on the flat of his chest.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she smiled. Her fingers trailed delicately to the top of his shirt, where they toyed with the top button for a few seconds. “May I?”

He spent a few seconds trying to say “yes”, before giving up and nodding instead.

One at a time, keeping eye contact with him, she gently undid each button on his shirt, marvelling at the sliver of visible skin that grew as she neared the bottom. As she tried to keep her breathing level, his hands returned to trail up and down her back, offering wordless encouragement as she slowly undressed him. She had to tug the shirt free for the final buttons; it was hard to miss the way the front of his trousers tented.

“Does it hurt?” she wondered aloud.

His gaze dropped to where hers was fixed below his waist. “A little,” he said, shrugging. “Admittedly, kissing you like this is not helping the situation.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Absolutely not,” he whispered.

Her hands rose to spread the fabric to each side and she shivered as she made contact with his bare skin. Hiccup had always been skinny, but he was no longer the fishbone she had grown up with. She’d seen him without his shirt on only once occasion since returning to Scotland - that same night, she’d discovered that pleasure was so much easier to find when shirtless Hiccup made an appearance in her thoughts. But now her memory was being updated in a wonderful way. No longer was she confined only to a stolen glance. Now her hands could wonder free across his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his ribs and stomach, smoothing over alabaster skin to feel his heart pumping rapidly under her fingertips. Knowing the effect she had on him in turn stoked her own arousal, and she pulled him back to her lips once more.

All their kisses until now had been gentle, if not a little curious. But there was a heat behind the way their lips locked now, more of a roughness in the way Astrid nipped at his mouth and Hiccup grasped at her back. Her pulse raced and her breathing sped up, until she could no longer continue by inhaling only through her nose. She pulled away to regain her breath, but Hiccup had no such need and his lips continued down her jawline to her neck until they reached a spot that was more tender than the rest. Her hands clawed into fists, and in doing so she accidentally scratched his chest.

“Mmm, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” he replied in something akin to a growl, before his lips found that spot again and sucked. The feeling sent fresh bolts of heat straight to her core, and it was quickly becoming a battle not to grind against his thigh in search of friction and release. There was something about the tone of his voice that drove her a little bit crazy.

The one sole part of Astrid’s brain that was still capable of rational thought spoke up then, suggesting that this might be a good place to stop. Though so many parts of her begged to continue, even more agreed with the rational one. Gently, she detached Hiccup’s lips from her neck and brought him round to meet her gaze.

“Let’s not go any further tonight,” she breathed, searching his face. “We’ve got all the time in the world to do that.”

To her relief, he nodded his acquiescence. “I agree,” he whispered, one hand tracing circles absentmindedly against her lower back. “Just having you here with me is more than I ever dreamed.”

Astrid rested her forehead against his. “I know I ought to leave and go to bed, but I really don’t want to,” she sighed.

“You could stay,” he murmured. She drew back, one eyebrow raised. “Not to do anything,” he hastened to clarify. “I just thought it might be nice to sleep next to each other, that’s all.”

She turned his suggestion over in her head for a few seconds before nodding in agreement. She trusted him wholeheartedly - if he wouldn’t keep his word there was no help for anyone else. “Okay, Hiccup. I’ll stay.”

A smile spread across his face. “I’ll just go get changed,” he said, leaning up for one more kiss.

Astrid climbed off his lap and padded over to the bed behind them; as she pulled the sheets back Hiccup grabbed a set of night clothes out of his suitcase at the foot of the bed and then planted a peck on her lips.

“Be right back,” he smiled, before darting off to the bathroom.

The sheets were smooth and warm from the fire, and Astrid felt herself starting to fall asleep as she waited for Hiccup to return. He must have reentered while she was dozing a little, because she had no memory of him climbing into bed next to her, but she did feel him gently pull her round to lie on his chest and take her in his embrace, lips connecting with the top of her head.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hairline. The words warmed her chest better than any fire could.

“Love you too,” she mumbled into his shoulder. She was out again before he’d even closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lovely readers! my apologies for the delay in uploading; I've just started my final year of university and I've had a birthday in the last couple of weeks so it's all been a bit chaotic! I appreciate your patience, and also all your lovely comments <3
> 
> most of the setup is done now, so actual plot will be getting underway now! yay! (lol)
> 
> chapter title from 'one' by sleeping at last
> 
> as always, be kind to yourself and others! see you next week x


	9. I choose to be happy

**APRIL 1908**  
**Edinburgh**

When he looked back on the weeks in Edinburgh, Hiccup remembered little more than an flurry of activity underlaid by a great aura of excitement among his friends. They had a long list of things that needed to be sorted before they could begin their adventure to the west - organising their supplies and preparing the boat for travel chief among them - but nothing felt like a chore. Dividing their efforts in a sensible manner (which mostly meant keeping the twins away from critical components), they worked efficiently and the house was soon filled with supplies for their journey, as well as provisions for any clansmen who might use the house in their absence.

What stood out among the blur was the interactions he had with his friends.

They all had their strengths, all of them useful in different ways. Fishlegs drew up an incredibly detailed list of supplies that they needed to procure; Snotlout had contacts who were able to provide them with dry goods in bulk; Ruffnut and Tuffnut- okay, the twins weren’t useful in the same regard, but to their credit, when Hiccup had asked them to organise the supplies towards their departure date he’d returned to the house that evening to find only one crate with minor fire damage. It wasn’t all work, though, and they did manage to spend time together, wandering through the city during the day and laughing till their stomachs hurt at night in the house.

And of course, in prime position among his memories was his time with Astrid. With all the things that needed to be done, and her being the one in the group he trusted the most, he often sent her out as he second-in-command, sure in her ability to get things done even with the others’ antics sometimes slowing their progress somewhat. This had the unfortunate effect of meaning that they spent very little time together alone during the day, but neither of them felt it too harshly knowing that they would always find each other at night. Hiccup was often the first one up and the last one in, what with there being some jobs that he and he alone could do, but everything was infinitely easier when she was the first thing he saw on waking up and the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes each evening. The first morning after they’d slept next to each other, he’d woken to find her curled into his chest, her back close enough that when he breathed in their skin just touched and her hands pulled his arms tighter around her.

He’d lain there for what felt like blissful eternity until she’d eventually stirred, the first indication a gentle whimper followed by her shifting herself back closer to him and pulling his arms even tighter around her. He let her come to at her own pace, waiting until he saw her eyes flutter open before addressing her.

“Good morning,” he whispered, leaning in to trace the shell of her ear with his lips. She made an approving noise and squeezed one of his hands.

“Did you sleep well?” she mumbled, turning over slightly until they made eye contact; she smiled at the sight of him. He was sure his hair was ruffled and all over the place after sleeping, but he found himself not caring.

“Amazingly,” he replied. “You?”

“Good,” she smiled. “You’re nice and warm.”

Hiccup chuckled. “I see how it is,” he said, running his hands over her stomach. “You just want me for my body heat.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she teased, turning all the way over until their chests pressed together. “That’s the only benefit of waking up in your bed…”

Her lips landed askew but gently on his own, soft sleepy kisses that he quickly lost himself in. Slowly, they manoeuvred themselves around until Astrid rested slightly above Hiccup, her hands searching into his hair while his brushed gently up and down her spine.

In the end, she broke the kiss, moving back to rest her chin gently on his sternum, smiling gently as one of his hands moved to brush the hair out of her face.

“I love you,” she smiled.

It was the easiest thing in the world to lean in and take her lips again.

They were very late to breakfast that morning.

* * *

“Hugh! Over here!”

Three steps into the restaurant on Princes Street, Hiccup turned to his right to see his friend waving from a table near the window, and walked over to meet him. He was pleasantly surprised when his lunch partner had agreed to meet him today, so rarely were they in the same place at the same time.

“It’s good to see you again,” Hiccup said as they shook hands.

“It’s good to see you too, lad. How are you holding up?”

“Well enough. Being Chief isn’t an easy business, but I’m doing my best.”

“I can imagine. I count my lucky stars that Dad’s still around and I don’t have to deal with most of that.”

Hiccup settled into his seat and cast his eyes out to the park across the street out of habit. Despite the inescapable politics and posturing that was necessary from living in Edinburgh, the truth was that like any proud Scotsman he loved the city with all his heart, especially the gardens that were visible from the restaurant in which he and Malcolm dined most often.

Malcolm was like him; a son of a Seventh Chief trying to make his mark on the clans and the other chiefs with whom their fathers frequently locked horns. Malcolm, although a few years Hiccup’s senior, was the one with whom he had the closest relationship; of the six heirs who regularly attended the gatherings, they alone would engage in debate, the rest more interested in dust on their shoes or the cobwebs in the ceiling than learning the art of politics and leadership.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

Hiccup brought his gaze back round, schooling his features to conceal his desire to roll his eyes. “I’ve told you before, I’d prefer to order myself,” he said quietly.

“Well, it saves time, doesn’t it? I’m rushing off to another meeting after this and I’m sure that you have… well, _something_ important that requires your attention.”

Malcolm had an unfortunate habit of assuming that what he had to do after their irregular meetings was far more important than anything Hiccup could have to attend to. This was objectively not true on several levels - least of all the not-inconsequential detail that Hiccup technically outranked him both as a full Seventh Chief and a Duke - but Hiccup, keen to maintain a good friendship with Malcolm and his father, generally let Malcolm’s bossy and somewhat superior nature slide in favour of sustaining the peace.

“What’s so important that you’re dashing off to?” he asked, taking a sip of water.

“Oh, you know, bits and bobs. Checking on some properties here, meeting a few tenants there. And of course, I’m off to London in a few days. Whilst I can’t yet sit in the Chamber, Father has asked that I go and observe the proceedings, so that I’m not an _embarrassment_ to the Clan when I do eventually take my seat.” Malcolm rolled his eyes; he did not share his father’s opinion of him being weak and ill-prepared for leadership. “Speaking of, have you been to London at all yet? Father said you weren’t there for that big vote a few weeks ago; apparently you were about the only one not there, even counting the English.”

“No, I haven’t managed it,” Hiccup said. “There’s been lots to attend to at home, you know? Sorting out the tenants and keeping the farms running over the winter. And anyway, my voice is hardly important there, you know?”

“Hugh, you’re one of the most powerful men in Scotland now. You should be down there all the time, getting the English lords to grovel at your feet in exchange for your vote. Have you chosen a party yet? I know your father remained neutral on these matters, but I do believe we could use your support for an independent Scotland on the benches-”

“Malcolm, can we at least get to eating before you start pestering me to join your crusade again?”

“Sorry, sorry, you know how I can get carried away with this.” Malcolm leant back from where he’d been gesticulating intensely across the table. “You know that this issue is very close to my heart.”

“As it is to all of us. I hardly imagine there is an issue more divisive than that of Scottish sovereignty.”

“There isn’t! When I was in London the week before last, I think I managed to persuade a couple of the English peers that Scottish independence is the only sensible way forward-”

“You seem to go to London a lot for a man who professes to hate the English and everything they stand for,” Hiccup noted gently.

“I go there out of necessity, not because I enjoy it. Someone has to be a voice for Scotland there. Some of us fight hard for this cause.”

Hiccup held his hands up. “Let’s not get into this now. This is a conversation for the Seven to have another time.”

“You mean, at every gathering, like always?”

“Of course.”

The two men chuckled. Before Hiccup could open his mouth to steer the conversation in a different direction, their server arrived with their food, and the two men tucked in ravenously. It was another few minutes before they spoke again.

“So, tell me about the girl.”

Hiccup looked up to see Malcolm smiling mischievously across the table at him. His jaw flapped uselessly until he remembered how to form words.

“Wha- what? How did you know?”

“Every time you’ve so much as paused for breath while eating, you’ve had this lovey-dovey look all over your face. There’s only two things that makes a man smile like that – a really good Scotch, and the love of his life. So, what’s her name?”

Hiccup smiled, feeling rumbled as he was. “Astrid,” he smiled, taking another bite of his food.

“Astrid- wait, isn’t that the girl you were pining for back in the day when we were teenagers? You’re still on her?”

“Yeah. She came back from Sweden after Dad died; she stayed to help me out with the Clan. The feeling kind of just… came back. Very quickly.”

“What’s she turned out like, huh? She completely blind or something? Must be, to fall for you.”

Hiccup ignored Malcolm’s jibe and smiled, the words pouring out without hesitation. “She… she’s… she’s just something else, Malc. She’s razor sharp, and funny, and not afraid to say or do what she wants. She’s got this gorgeous blonde hair, and the most amazing blue eyes, And amazingly, she feels the same way. I can’t even describe how happy that makes me. How happy she makes me.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it bad for this girl, huh?” Malcolm took a swing from his glass, then chuckled. “Not that I’m surprised. You haven’t shut up about her since she left for Sweden, what was it – ten years ago?”

“It was six years ago, and you’re making me sound like I’m following her around like a puppy begging for treats.” Hiccup rolled his eyes and sipped at his own drink. “I’m a grown man, thank you very much.”

“It’s adorable,” Malcolm smiled. “I’d like to meet her; it will be highly entertaining to see you start drooling at the mouth at the sight of her.”

“What, like you were any better when you and Iona first met?”

“That’s different.”

“Oh, is it?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause for a brief moment. Hiccup gestured with his hand, calling his friend’s bluff. “Go on, then.”

Malcolm tried desperately to justify himself for a few more seconds, before breaking into raucous laughter that drew a few haughty stares from some of the restaurant’s more elderly patrons. He slapped the table. “Ah, you got me, Hugh. We’re just young men in love with beautiful women; we can hardly help it.”

“No. No we can’t.” Hiccup smiled into his glass. Malcolm returned it knowingly, before returning to the last of his meal.

“Anyway, there’s something I need to ask you. I take it the reason we’re meeting today is so that you can correct what James Sinclair has been saying about you to the rest of the clans. Daft old man, isn’t he? I’m surprised it took him this long to start losing his marbles.” He popped a forkful of food into his mouth and looked at Hiccup expectantly.

Hiccup paused. He hadn’t hoped to bring this up so soon in the conversation, but he realised he couldn’t lie to Malcolm, not when the news was clearly already out some. “No. No, he’s telling the truth.”

Malcolm’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Say again?”

“He’s telling the truth. I’m leaving, Malc.”

Hiccup watched Malcolm’s mouth fall open, then close abruptly. His friend swallowed. “Why in God’s name would you want to do such a thing?” he asked quietly.

Hiccup was momentarily taken aback by the sudden malice in his friend’s voice. “What?”

“Why would you do such a stupid thing? You have everything here! Lands, money, you hold Peerage – not that you’ve even been to London since you ascended.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything-”

“Hugh, you’re the holder of one of the most powerful seats in all of Scotland – in the whole country, for that matter. It has to do with everything. You’re just going to give that all up on, what – a whim? The travel bug?”

“I don’t feel like my place is here anymore, Malc; it hasn’t felt the same since Dad died. Maybe before then, if I’m honest.”

“But you still have duties to your Clan! And what are you doing about your Seventh?”

“They’re all provided for, that’s why James know about my plans - he’s protecting them in my absence. I’m only planning to be away for a few months, a year tops, but if I do decide to stay a little longer, the Sinclairs have promised to look after what remains of Clan Haddock. There’s not that many of us left anyway.”

“But you can’t do that!” Malcolm spluttered. “It’s just not done. What are you going to do about your seat? Your _Seventh_ \- Hugh, we’ve never had a gathering without all Seven Chiefs present.”

“I realise it presents some challenges, but-”

“And how are you even getting there? Slumming it on one of the cheap liners?”

“We’re sailing ourselves there, thank you. We’re more than capable.”

“Who’s we?”

“Myself, Astrid, three of my Clan and my cousin, Sno- Scott.”

“The Jorgenson?” Malcolm stopped short. “Why would you be travelling with him? I’d heard his father had disowned him for indecency.”

“That’s kind of unfair-”

“Do you really want that kind of person tagging along with you?”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic-”

“Have you considered what your father would say about all this?”

Hiccup’s eyes narrowed. He understood Malcolm’s shock and indignation, was willing to tolerate what he assumed would be a standard response to his plans, especially regarding Snotlout, but involving his father was crossing a line.

“I’ve fulfilled my responsibility to those in the Clan I’m leaving behind, and I trust James to treat them well in my absence. There’s provision put aside for them for at least two years, just in case. Beyond my obligations, my father would want me to do what made me happy. Don’t you try and put words in his mouth, especially when he’s not here to speak for himself.”

“Alright, I’m sorry.”

“I’m telling you this because we’re friends, and I wanted to give you the courtesy of telling you the why of it myself rather than you having to hear it on the grapevine. I didn’t come here for you to question my loyalty to my Clan or second-guess my decision-making.”

“I said I’m sorry, Hugh. I’m sure you’ll have a great time out west.”

Hiccup sighed. “Fine.” He still had a small amount of food on his plate, but his appetite had completely disappeared. “Well, like you said at the start, I’ve got things to be attending to, so I’m going to have to leave a little early today.” He pushed to his feet.

“C’mon, Hugh, don’t be like that-”

“Give my best to your father, and to Iona, and I will write you when I make it safely across the Atlantic.”

“Hugh, stop, please?”

Hiccup sighed and turned back to Malcolm, raising one eyebrow in question.

“Look.” Malcolm stood and walked over to join him. “All the best to you. Seriously.” He held out his hand in an attempt at a peace offering.

Hiccup bit back another exasperated sigh and stuck his hand out to grasp Malcolm’s too. “**_Tapadh leibh_**, Malc. I’ll see you when I see you.”

Turning on his heel and leaving the restaurant, Hiccup didn’t see Malcolm return to his seat and pull out a small green notebook, detailing the particulars of their conversation. By the time he’d returned to the street to head back to the townhouse, Malcolm’s eyes had lit up, the gears in his head slowly beginning to turn.

* * *

The line for the post office was large, even though it was well past eleven o’clock and the morning rush had long since subsided. Astrid was a little impatient when she joined the back of the queue behind seven other patrons, her anxiety amplifying every minor irritation, but within minutes she had disconnected from her surroundings almost entirely, continuing her attempt to make a desperate decision that would drastically affect the rest of her life.

Which one of two letters was she to post.

It was not the pieces of paper themselves, of course, but rather their contents. Both addressed to her parents, both dated within the last week. In her left hand she clutched a letter that gave acknowledgement of her summons back to Sweden. She had written that she had a few personal matters to settle in Edinburgh, but would likely be back in Stockholm within the week after the letter arrived. Short, matter-of-fact; the appropriate style of letter for an obedient young woman following her parents’ wishes.

In her right hand was treason.

In her right hand was a letter that took custom and propriety and what was expected of her and set it all aflame for the whole world to see.

She loved Hiccup. She loved him enough to throw decorum to the wind and leave for a foreign country with a man she was not married to against her parents’ express wishes. And yet, she found herself torn. Her parents were strict, yes, and they held a lot of power in deciding her future that she envied them for. But they were also good and kind people, and it broke Astrid’s heart knowing that she would upset them so much if she did what she was considering.

The line edged forward one step.

It was not a clear cut decision. Despite what she’d told Hiccup, what she’d promised him when they’d first kissed and again in bed together every night since arriving in Edinburgh, she couldn’t quite bring herself to commit to potentially estranging herself from her parents on an as-yet unfulfilled plan to make a new life in a foreign country thousands of miles from the place of her birth.

The decision had eaten her alive for weeks; it was the pain that the decision caused her that had led her to finally take herself to the post office and make her choice in the posting of a letter. And yet, here she was, still incapacitated by it.

Another step forward. Time was running out.

_You have to choose. You have to choose right now._

Another step. Only one person remained between her and the inevitable.

The pain tore her in half. She could not bring herself to cut herself off from her family so abruptly. Could she? She could not bear it if she had to be separated from Hiccup. Could she?

The doorbell rang softly at that point as a young couple entered the shop together - Astrid could hear their laughter before she even turned around. She fought not to be nosey, to keep herself to herself, but in the end curiosity (and a small amount of jealousy) won out and she briefly glanced over her shoulder at them. The couple stood closely together, with the young woman’s hand resting lightly on her partner’s chest and his arms wrapped loosely around her waist. They radiated adoration for each other, exhibited more explicitly when the man ducked down to take his sweetheart’s mouth against his own despite the titterings from some of the more elderly patrons. The couple withdrew from each other with smiles as wide as their faces, tucking their arms round the other’s waist as they stepped forward one step in the queue.

_Choose._

“Next please!”

Her feet carried her to the counter without conscious instruction from her brain; she forced her face into a smile for the clerk despite the internal anguish she was processing.

“Good morning, miss, how can I help you today?”

_Choose._

“I need to post a letter to Sweden.”

“Do you know the address?”

“Yes, I’ve already written it on the envelope.”

_Choose._

“Is second class postage acceptable?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

_Choose._

“May I have the letter you wish to send, please?”

_Choose._

Three rapid beats of her heart passed, before her right hand rose to pass the letter it held to the clerk.

* * *

_Mother and Father,_

_I love you both so dearly, but I cannot do what you ask of me in summoning me back to Sweden. For all my platitudes for you regarding the search for a husband, which I confess were intended rather flippantly when I communicated them initially, I do believe I have found true and meaningful love in Hiccup, and it would break my heart to see us separated so shortly after this discovery. Surely he is a suitable match that you would not disagree with; he holds noble status in this country, he is well-connected and wealthy, and you must know yourselves from our time in Scotland in my youth that I could not find a man who respected and loved me more if I scoured the whole earth._

_He still intends to make travels to North America, for an indeterminate length of time, and it is my intention to accompany him. I know what your response will be - that I am an unmarried woman disgracing myself by travelling unaccompanied with a man I am not yet married to - but the simple truth is that I care not for the optics of this in any manner. I love Hiccup, and he loves me with all his heart. We will eventually be wed, but only when we return from the west, so that you may all be present and see the truth in the news I write you with. I could never embark upon marriage in any form without having you there to celebrate it with me._

_I know that my decision will likely cause great anger and sorrow in you, but please know that it is never my intention to do so and that I feel true pain knowing that this will likely be the result, no matter how clearly and delicately I have stated my intentions. I see this as a simple choice: my immediate return to Sweden wherein you choose a husband for me and I live out my days in a loveless marriage with nought to do but embroider chair coverings and host dinner parties; or happiness with Hiccup and a life surrounded by friends and filled with great adventure._

_I choose to be happy._

**~ end of part 1 ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last week the hit count for this fic jumped about 60 overnight and I nearly cried!! thank you to everyone who is reading and commenting, and I hope you continue to enjoy :)


	10. the calm before the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mature sexual content in the first section! if you want to read around it, you won't miss anything important don't worry! :)

**~ part 2 ~**

**APRIL 1908**   
**the North Atlantic**

It hadn’t been raining when Astrid had first come on deck late afternoon to get some fresh air, but inevitably after twenty minutes or so she felt the first drops of rain against her skin. It was barely more than mist, though, so she stayed out a moment longer to thoroughly inspect the ropes that tied the small lifeboat to the deck before heading up to join Hiccup on his shift on the bridge. They rotated the watch between him, her and Snotlout – while he was irritating beyond belief at times, she grudgingly admitted that Snot was fairly competent and could be trusted to steer the boat on a constant bearing in open water. Fishlegs served as their navigator and quartermaster, and also kept an eye on the twins, who had been forbidden from entering both the bridge and engine room within the first hour on board. That left them the galley with which to play, and while Astrid was not the biggest fan of their cooking methods, letting them handle her food was far superior to letting them run amuck on the actual critical components of the ship. Upset stomachs could be overcome. Broken rudders, not so much.

They had worked out a schedule before they left the docks in Glasgow – she, Hiccup and Snotlout would each take a six-hour shift on the bridge, while the other two got twelve hours off to eat, sleep, do odd jobs and relax before their next shift. It had been a delicate trade-off – though they would get tired on longer shifts, if they made them too short they would not have enough time to sleep properly before the next one. It had worked out alright in practice, though; she and Hiccup tended to keep each other company through most of the other’s shifts, and then sleep through Snot’s until Astrid was woken for the start of hers. The unfortunate side effect was that all six were all struggling to keep a normal sleep pattern, but it also meant that no matter what time of the day (or night) they were up, there was usually always someone else to keep them company, what with the twins’ apparent lack of need for sleep longer than three hours at at time.

Five days in, however, and despite loving the time she got to spend alone with Hiccup, Astrid was now getting desperate for sleep. That morning as she was preparing to go to bed after her shift had ended, the twins had caused a mess below decks that had needed all free hands to clear up. This had eaten up most of the time she would have preferred to have spent sleeping, and by the time she was finished it was less than half an hour before Hiccup’s shift ended so she figured she would go and sit with him before they headed down for sleep together. They were, after all, sharing a bunk – there was no other option, given there were only three just-big-enough-for-two beds crammed into the bow and she wasn’t about to share with any of the others – and he’d wake her up climbing into bed himself in a short while anyway.

The rain picked up ever so slightly as she climbed up to the bridge, and she swept a hand across her forehead to wipe the moisture away as she opened the door to join him.

“It’s starting to pick up a bit out there,” she said. “Snot’s not gonna have an easy watch if that storm decides to pick on us.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Hiccup smiled. “Besides, the boat’s well designed, he’d really have to be trying to roll the thing.”

“Even with your modifications, I wouldn’t put it past him.” She leant against the window at the back of the bridge.

“Please; now he won that bet, Tuff’s not gonna challenge him to any more stupid stuff like that.”

“I’m glad you wrung their heads together over that; if you hadn’t, I probably would have thrown them both overboard. **_Idioter_**, the pair of them.”

“Well, Fishlegs says the hole is in a panel that isn’t load-bearing so we should be fine until we make land.”

“Hmmm.” Astrid pushed off from the back wall and looped her arms around Hiccup’s neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek before settling there with a sigh.

She felt him smile. “Hi?”

“Hi. Is this okay?”

“Definitely.” One of his hands left the wheel and came up to rest on her crossed arms. They stood like that in comfortable silence for the last few minutes, interrupted only by Astrid’s intermittent pecks against Hiccup’s temple until the trapdoor behind them popped and Snotlout appeared from below decks, followed by Fishlegs.

“The Snotman is ready for his driving time, gang!”

Astrid smothered a laugh and stood up as Hiccup visibly rolled his eyes at his cousin. “All yours, Snot. Everything’s running fine; the engine shouldn’t need refuelling until Astrid comes back on, but if it does, you know how to do it, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Hiccup, have some faith in your favourite cousin.”

“And there’s that big boat behind us, but it’s quite a long way away and appears to be heading perpendicular to us, which is odd because that means it’s heading for the open ocean. Fishlegs, I trust you, but I just wanted to check – we are navigating this correctly, right? Going west?”

“Don’t worry Hiccup, we’re fine! Professor MacDonald showed me how to map read before I left university – you put the map down and rotate it till it lines up with the needle, and then you follow the needle! Easy!”

“Okay, okay, I just wanted to check. Snot, Astrid and I are going below now; come get us when she’s due to start back on.”

“Will do.”

“I’ll probably be asleep by then, but if I’m not, I’ll come and get you both up,” Fishlegs interjected. “There’s supposed to be some porpoises around these parts; I’m hoping to observe a few, but they may take a while to show themselves.”

Astrid gestured to Hiccup to let him drop down the ladder first; she followed behind and swung the trapdoor shut overhead. She walked across the five paces to the galley to check on the twins – who were spark-out asleep on the poxy benches at the rear of the boat that served as their combined dining and living space – before turning on her heel and crossing back to the tiny bathroom opposite the kitchen. Once she had relieved herself, she finally pulled the door into the bow open and took two steps before collapsing into bed next to Hiccup, who already looked to be half asleep himself.

“The twins have collapsed at the back,” she murmured, turning herself on the pillow to face him across from her.

“Asleep, not actually unconscious, I hope?” he mumbled back.

“Well, I think so, but it’s hard to tell the difference sometimes with them. I don’t think they’re in any trouble, though, they used up all the really dangerous stuff on the first day.”

She saw him chuckle, before blinking his eyes open to meet her gaze. The space they shared was so small that even with them as far apart as possible, their bent knees still interlocked and their faces were less than a handspan from each other’s. Awkwardly, he raised a hand from the small space between them to rest it on her cheek, thumb smoothing slowly over the skin there. Astrid was exhausted from a lack of sleep, but lying this close to Hiccup, with his hand on her face, her body threw off her tiredness in favour of another feeling: hot, thrumming anticipation.

From the way his breath quickened and his eyes deepened, Hiccup wasn’t that tired either.

He leaned forward and took her lips gently, the hand on her face pulling her closer until they were pressed together all along their bodies. Arms trapped by their position on the bed, she could only run a hand across his hip and down to the small of his back, and she craved more of him. Hiccup realised her predicament fairly quickly and shifted himself above her, hands planted in the pillow by her head.

She reached her thumb up to brush against his bottom lip, taking a second to appreciate the view she was being afforded. “Close the door,” she whispered. There was no lock, but it was unlikely they’d be disturbed; the bunk room was barely bigger than a broom cupboard around the mattresses so the others didn’t tend to congregate in there and they’d hear if anyone started moving around outside.

Hiccup knelt up and reached across to slide the door shut; in his haste, he used a little more force than was needed and it banged once against the frame before coming to a halt. At the other end of the cabin, Astrid heard one of the twins stir slightly but settle again quickly, and as Hiccup turned back with a grimace on his face, Astrid couldn’t help but release a short giggle.

“What?” he huffed, a smile tweaking his blushed cheeks up.

She shook her head, biting a smile of her own down against her bottom lip. “Nothing.” One of her hands rose from where they were resting on his thighs to tug gently against his shirt, her patience slowly melting away. “Come here.”

He fell into her embrace once more, meeting her lips with a passion she hadn’t yet seen from him. They’d slept next to each other every night in Edinburgh, yes, but rarely had they had enough energy to do more than peck each other goodnight. It had been a couple of weeks since that morning in the Highlands, long enough for the feeling inside them to build to something that couldn’t be ignored and here, with no interruptions, it broke through to the front of their minds, replacing everything else with a need for each other.

A need she felt, and knew he felt too if the way his lips moved intensely against hers was any indication.

One of Hiccup’s hands cupped her cheek, drawing her lips up towards him, while his other gently grabbed at her hip, thumb skimming lightly over the protruding bone. In turn, her own pressed him closer in his hair and his lower back, her legs bending to cradle his hips between her thighs. She nipped and pulled his bottom lip between her own; the action made him groan softly and they briefly pulled apart, eyes searching the other’s as they panted heavily. She knew what she wanted from him, knew exactly what he wanted her to do, but didn’t know how to articulate it to him.

And then she didn’t have to.

The hand on her hip gently slid towards the centre of her stomach, resting lightly just above the seam of her trousers. “Can I touch you?” he whispered.

She nodded once. Then again. The hand she had on his lower back snaked between them to meet his own, lacing their fingers together as she guided his hands under the layers of material that prevented her feeling his skin against hers.

“Please,” she whimpered.

She didn’t have much coherent thought after that. Hiccup was as inexperienced as she was, evident from the way his eyes bulged almost as much as his trousers, but **_jävla fan_** was he a quick learner. Her murmured instructions went straight into his head and down to his talented fingers, and it wasn’t long before she found herself curling her toes and yanking him up to her face so that she could drown her cries in a messy kiss as she fell apart under his touch.

As her breathing slowed and her awareness returned to the tiny cabin, she registered Hiccup rocking ever so gently against her hip, his face contorted in what looked like pain and short, breathy whimpers escaping his lips.

“Hiccup?” she asked breathlessly, concerned for him.

“Sorry,” he muttered, ceasing his movements. She brushed the hair from his sweaty forehead and planted a gentle kiss there. “I just… you were so… and I need…”

“Oh.” _Of course._

“Is that…? I mean, would it be okay if I-?”

“Yes, yes, just…”

She worked quickly, pulling her own shirt up before quickly unlacing his trousers and freeing him from the confines of the material; she didn’t miss the sob he let loose as her fingers brushed against his sensitive skin, his hips arching into the barest of touches. “Here,” she directed him, reaching up to kiss him again as his hand went to work. She tried to help, to assist him in finding what he’d already helped her achieve, but his hand gently knocked her fingers aside.

“Too much,” he just about managed to explain before moaning loudly into her neck, and it was barely seconds before she felt him pulse to liquid on her stomach.

He managed to fall to the side of her, avoiding the mess on her skin, and as he basked in his afterglow she took it upon herself to reach down under the bed for a dirty blouse she’d stowed yesterday. By the time she’d cleaned her stomach and hidden the blouse once more, Hiccup had returned from his high and had returned his clothing to rights too. They shared a quick smile before he offered her his shoulder with an open arm; she gladly accepted and fell down, enjoying the weight and warmth of his arms around her.

“Thank you,” she heard him whisper. She turned her head up to him.

“Why are you thanking me?” she smiled. “If anything, I should be thanking you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. But… will _I love you_ suffice instead?”

She reached up slightly to peck him on the chin. “I suppose it might. And I love you too.” Her kiss was interrupted as he yawned deeply. “Sleep?” she chuckled when it had passed.

“Please.” Gently, he guided her back down to rest her head on his shoulder. Just as she’d settled comfortably onto his chest, her eyes falling shut without hesitation, there was a brisk knock at the door, before it slid softly open. Astrid thanked herself for having the wherewithal to re-dress as promptly as she had.

“Guys? Are you still awake?” a voice called softly.

“Only just, Fish; what is it?” Hiccup said next to her, voice more than a little strained.

“There’s a big storm coming, and I’m a bit worried.”

She could almost hear Hiccup rolling his eyes in exasperation. “We’ll be fine, Fishlegs, this boat’s pretty tough.”

“I know, but this storm looks particularly ominous. You really ought to come up to the bridge.”

Astrid groaned loudly for a few seconds, mourning the loss of yet more sleep, but pushed herself to sitting anyway. “Alright, we’re on our way.”

* * *

Fishlegs, it transpired, wasn’t exaggerating at all. The small patch of grey cloud that had been in the distance when they’d gone below at the end of Hiccup’s shift had bloomed to an almost black swell that encompassed well over a third of the visible sky. And it was all in the direction they were sailing.

Hiccup tapped his thumb against his bottom lip as he thought.

“Alright, listen up gang. I don’t think there’s a way for us to get around this thing, so we need to prepare for some rough conditions ahead. Everyone except Snot, get below, start strapping things down so we don’t have anything sharp rolling around waiting to stab someone. We’ll move some basic supplies into the lifeboat now, just in case. Someone needs to empty the head overboard – the last thing we need is _that_ overflowing downstairs, Tuff stinks enough as it is. Get some extra layers on, too – it’s gonna get cold.”

“Fishlegs, are you _sure_ we’re going the right way?” Astrid asked gently. “The weather’s supposed to be getting better as we get closer to Greenland, not worse.”

“I’m pretty sure, Astrid, but- look, if you want to be sure, double check my method, alright?”

Fishlegs spread the map down on the small table at the back of the bridge; they had to hold it down at the corners to prevent it sliding around with each rock of the boat in increasingly choppy waters.

“So, I take the compass, and I place it on where we are. Then, we tilt the map to line up with the needle. Then, we follow the direction of the needle.”

Hiccup felt his blood run cold. _**How**? How did I miss this? This could kill us all in minutes. Oh, **fuck**…_

“Fishlegs, that’s not how it works,” he said, as softly as he could, though his voice wavered slightly. Astrid and Fishlegs both snapped their heads up to look at him in confusion and mild panic.

“But- but that’s how I said it earlier, and you said it was fine then-”

“I think I misheard your explanation. With what you’re doing, we’re effectively just following the needle, right? Not the arrow _after_ the needle has aligned with the north-south lines on the map.”

“Oh, my god.” Astrid’s face paled in horror as the realisation dawned on her too.

“So?” Fishlegs was starting to sound tetchy, desperate to be proved right, but not for his pride.

“So, we haven’t been following a bearing to Canada, Fish. We’ve been sailing due north since we left Scotland. We’re not less than a day off the south coast of Greenland, we must be nearer Iceland by now.”

“No. No, that’s not possible. There’s no way I…” Fishlegs trailed off into nothing as he looked at the map and compass, desperate to prove Hiccup wrong. Hiccup _wanted_ to be proved wrong, but with each passing second, Fishlegs’ distress became more evident, the reaction only confirming what he already knew to be true. At his side, Astrid reached for his hand; he met hers and they both squeezed in support.

“Fuck,” Fishlegs concluded.

“You mean we’re going the wrong way?” Snotlout yelped from the wheel.

“Yes, unfortunately. If the cloud cover wasn’t as thick, we might have been able to use the sun as a navigation aid too. But it doesn’t matter now in any case. We should be able to correct it. If we sail due west from where we are now, we should eventually hit Greenland and then we can just sail south along the coast until we get back on track, albeit several days behind.”

“But what about the storm? And our food? Are we going to starve?!” Snotlout’s voice become even more agitated.

Hiccup sighed. He had to make a decision before _everyone_ panicked. Looking first at Astrid, then down at the map, his brain went to work, estimating their current position and planning a new course for them to follow. He cross-referenced this with the visible horizon – and was relieved to see an island in the distance that could serve as a reference point – although it could reasonably be any one of dozens in this archipelago, most of which weren’t even referenced on this map, so he had to take it with a pinch of salt. They could be anywhere within the hundreds of square miles off the eastern coast of Greenland, between there and Norway. The one benefit they did have was the slight westerly wind, which would help them on their way back to where they ought to be. Plan formulated, he turned to his cousin to give his instructions.

“Look, make for that island over there. Worst case, we deliberately beach ourselves and wait for the storm to pass before moving on. We have plenty of provisions, we don’t need to worry about the delay as long as we’re sensible about rationing.”

Snotlout nodded and turned them slightly to the west to aim for the island in the distance. Hiccup stayed above decks long enough to make sure Snot had calmed down sufficiently, before heading below to help the others secure their floating home for the battering it was to endure.

A short while later, their little boat sailed into the fringes of the storm. None of them could know what was to come next.

* * *

**London**

In the City of London, not far from the Palace of Westminster, was an unremarkable Georgian-era house down a quiet side-street – well, as quiet as roads in London ever get. This was, of course, precisely the reason why this particular building had been chosen for its intended purpose – there were plenty of other places where its clientele could go to luxuriate in world-class service and company, but on the occasion where a more discreet location was required, 27 Greencoat Place served perfectly.

This, Iain Campbell, 16th Earl of Argyll and Seventh Chieftain remarked to himself as he made his way up to the front door of the building, was one of the many perks of his position.

He rapped four times in quick succession; after a pause, the midnight blue door swung open into the house. The doorman was paid to know each patron on sight in order to dispense with identity checks and paperwork that might be used to attribute the presence of a certain patron in the building at a particular date and time. Guests were never allowed; new patrons were invited only after a rigorous discussion between the five men who oversaw the running of the club and a letter from a current member, who had to have been a regular attender for at least six months, in which he personally vouched for the conduct of the prospective member. To be considered for membership in the first place, however, there were only two requirements: to be a current Peer in the House of Lords, and to know the importance of the word discretion.

State secrets were, after all, a delicate business.

Of course, those were not the only dealings that occurred within the walls of this non-descript terraced house. In the weeks preceding major votes, the walls of no. 27 Greencoat Place were often privy to a range of significant conversations as favours were traded, promises made, privileges exchanged in order to drum up the necessary votes for (and sometimes against) the legislation in question.

The conversations that took place between Argyll and his allies perhaps strayed from the intended use of the building more than the English managers may have liked, had they known their contents.

Argyll, though only in his early fourties, had been Earl and Chief of his Clan for nearly ten years at this point, since the death of his father in what no-one could prove was anything other than a terrible accident. From a young age, two things had been instilled in him above all else: duty to his people, and duty to the great nation of Scotland as a whole. Their beloved country had suffered for years under the oppressive rule of the English, who saw Scotland and its people as something to tolerate, to contain, to beat into submission. The vice-like grip that the English centre of power held on Scotland had forced it to limp along economically, particularly in the last fifty years while Argyll’s homeland had been forced to watch as England and England alone reaped the benefits of the so-called Industrial Revolution. Scottish workers left their birthplaces in their thousands, seeking new lives in the economically prosperous south, and there was very little the clans could do to stop them.

Outright rebellion was easily crushed – as demonstrated over the years – but there was very little the English could do to stop quiet subversion. In the shadows of the Highlands, chiefs and clans met often, far away from London’s watchful eye; waiting, plotting, planning. For the right moment, for opportunities to fall into place, for finally making the use of back-channel communications established between the men Argyll was about to meet with and various organisations across Europe, all allied under one common purpose.

Independence. At any cost.

And, as Argyll was about to discover, the right moment had finally come to put their plans into motion.

He found his colleagues in a smaller room on the second floor. Like every time they met here, they had spaced out their arrivals over the previous forty minutes so as not to attract attention to their grouping by other patrons. They need not have bothered on this occasion – for the most part, the house was devoid of fellow Peers, with only one elderly gentleman using a downstairs room for some much-needed peace and quiet after a noisy morning in the Chamber.

As soon as he closed the doors behind him, their conversation began.

“I have progress from Greenland,” Argyll announced as he strode over to the remaining armchair. “They have succeeded in capturing and containing more than a dozen of the beasts.”

“You have said this before; the time we met after that proclamation, you came back with your tail between your legs to announce that the men had lost control of the beasts within a day after they arrived on shore.” Robert Bruce, 12th Earl of Elgin and the eldest of their group, did not look impressed – but that was par for the course as far as he was concerned.

_Grumpy old fart_, Argyll remarked to himself before replying. “At the time of writing, these particular beasts had been in captivity for nearly a full week; if they have managed to keep control of them, they will have been contained for almost six weeks by now,” he pointed out.

“Well, let’s hope these men are more competent than we’ve been giving them credit for. We have established our contacts abroad; they have had their proof of the goods we are offering and now they are willing to put their money where their mouth is. Almost all the pieces are in place. The issue we face now is, of course, how we actually get the ball rolling here, allowing legal trading of the beasts for profit. Clearly, currently none of us can introduce this legislation in Parliament without arousing suspicion.”

“Even if Germany do the hard work for us?” Lord Airlie chimed in; he and Lord Rosebery did not hold Seventh seats and were only here by grace of the fact that between them they commanded of two of the largest clans by number.

“Even then,” Argyll replied. “I believe even the most sensible of our colleagues may take issue with the strength of the wording of the bill. It will not pass as it is, but with inevitable amendments which will crush the spirit of it, restrict its powers heavily, and we will have missed our chance, and this will all have been for nothing. Not to mention, of course, that our secret will thus be announced for the world to see, and our economic advantage goes away almost overnight.”

“I know we have already discussed this on other occasions, but could we not reconsider taking this directly to the Prime Minister?” Rosebery offered. “Asquith has just been elected and does command a majority in the Commons. It would make things easier to have him on side, if he can be persuaded.”

Elgin nearly choked on a mouthful of tea. “Have you _met_ Asquith? He’s all but in bed with the French; and of course, they’re the only ones between us and Germany geographically if war breaks out on its own. Do you really think that going up to him with what is effectively a plan to turn his favourite country into a razed pile of dirt is going to help us in any manner?”

“Fine, fine, I concede the point.”

“But we will need to introduce the concept domestically _somehow_. We get caught trading these things illegally and the English will have our hides.”

“And our money.”

“And our freedom. It’s not worth the risk.”

Silence extended across the group, as was common when they were working through an issue like this. They sat in silence for only a few seconds, however, as another voice quickly filled the gap.

“I believe I can offer a neat solution to this problem. And perhaps to our greater plight too, as it happens.”

The other men turned their heads to look at their co-conspirator. Typically silent in these meetings, Lord Strathnaver, heir to the Chiefdom of Clan Sutherland and the youngest of them all, tended to speak only when he felt it would add definitive value to their discussions. A technique that others in their group could learn from, Argyll noted privately.

Strathnaver leaned forward. “It seems that the young Duke of Selkirk has had Caithness subsume his lands and holdings. As far as I understand it, this arrangement may continue _indefinitely_.”

“_What_? On what grounds would he do such a stupid thing? Does he not understand the power he holds?” Elgin spluttered.

“He claims to have no desire to power – I do not understand him, it’s completely beyond me. In any case, he has had James Sinclair take temporary custody of his seat until such a time as he returns from America.”

“_America_?”

“Yes, he appears to be sailing off to seek a new life out west like so many of our tenants. And his return is far from assured, gentlemen. When we spoke of it at length recently, he seemed intent on remaining abroad for a long time, if not permanently.”

“But- but he can’t do that!”

“It’s an outrage! How dare he violate his responsibilities like that?”

“What’s he doing with his seat? His _Seventh_?”

“James Sinclair has taken temporary custody of it all.”

“_What_?”

There was an outbreak of indignant muttering among the group.

“In all our history, the clans have always risen and fallen in relative power, often as a result of action against the Crown itself. But this? Allowing another Seventh to hold twice the power? This is another level of sedition against our great country,” Elgin chuntered. “I _knew_ they secretly supported the unionists, him and his father.”

Strathnaver nodded. “Indeed, that was my reaction also.”

“The last thing we need is for Sinclair to be able to bring his one of cronies in and ensure an even stronger pro-unification bloc. We were so close to swinging the majority in our favour, we could easily have persuaded the boy, what with him being alone and without an heir… and now independence becomes even further from viability,” Argyll noted with a defeated sigh. He rubbed his face in his hands to relieve some tension on his forehead. It didn’t work particularly well.

“Oh, but I disagree,” he heard Strathnaver say. He looked up from his hands to see his co-conspirator smiling knowingly at them all. “Gentlemen, I do believe this provides us with a unique opportunity to advance our plans.”

“Do share it with us, laddie.” Rosebery looked hopeful.

“Selkirk has left his seat to Caithness to fill, as his is right by the laws that govern the gathering. If he decides that he will not return to Scotland in his former capacity, Caithness may then nominate one of his allies to the opening with Selkirk’s permission, and there will be nothing we can do to stop him without a majority, which we do not possess and have no way to force. However, if Selkirk were to die, say, in a _tragic accident_ before he could communicate such a message to Caithness, the seat would fall open to nomination and accession for any noble house across Scotland. Which we could then fill easily, since most of the clans support our call for independence.”

Elgin leant back in his seat. “That would be very convenient indeed.”

Argyll, however, could still see unforgiving holes in this plan. “How are we to dispose of Selkirk without arousing suspicion? The Sinclairs and the Gordons at least are likely to kick off if we don’t do it delicately enough, what with their connections to the boy, and we could be scuppered incredibly quickly, especially if the other clans find out. The last thing we need is to divide ourselves so blatantly before we even begin.”

“You say he is sailing across the pond?” Airlie noted. “Is it a small group?”

“He says there are six of them in total, sailing by themselves.”

“That problem may solve itself then! They number only six, and are inexperienced, and are trying to cross the North Atlantic by themselves in a small craft? Gentlemen, he’s all but doing our work for us!” Rosebery cried.

“Let’s not celebrate just yet. His companions, while small in number, are not incompetent, and the vessel they are sailing with is new and efficient. You know what the boy is like – he’s tinkered with it to make it even more superior against the elements. There is a very good chance they will survive the crossing.”

“Then we’ll need to deal with him when he gets to North America. But how…?”

“What about our contact in Greenland, Strathnaver – the one who travels regularly between there and the Balkans?”

“Hmm. Yes, I suppose that would work. He’ll be docking in Inverness within the week to pick up some final supplies before heading back across the Atlantic for the beasts themselves. I could meet with him and his brother; for the right price, they would ensure that Haddock and his band are silenced, either whilst still in Scotland or upon their landfall in the west, should they survive their trip across the pond.”

“How can you guarantee that they will be able to find Selkirk, if he does survive the crossing? There are no pictures of him to use for reference.”

“Leave that to me. It will not be so difficult to track him after he makes landfall, the party he travels in is… rather _distinctive_.”

“Are you referring to the large boy he keeps as his librarian, or the Jorgenson disgrace?”

“Both.”

“So,” Argyll concluded. “We remove Selkirk from play and fill his seat.”

“And once we have the majority of the Seven, we can raise the bill in the Chamber on behalf of our great nation without arousing individual suspicion, and be free of the tyranny of English rule for good. We have enough favours to call in, and for those that don’t comply we can certainly threaten them with our new favourite toys.”

“What will we do about the Other Place?”

“Getting the bill through the Commons can be sorted easily enough. A little bit of money looks like a lot when you’re used to eating pig shit for three meals a day.”

“And once we have the votes-”

“And the legislation passes-”

“It will be a simple case of connecting the dots,” Argyll finished. “Using our newfound status as an independent nation – and our more _delicate_ connections too – to poke specific bears in specific pits in order to fan the flames of war. And then we sit back and watch the fireworks and let the money roll in. We may well be reaping the benefits by next Burns’ Night.”

“Gentlemen.” Malcolm Sutherland leant backwards, fists coming to rest on the arms of his chair. He caught Argyll’s eye and smiled. “I believe we have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the scene in London was one of the first things I wrote when the idea for this story came to me, so seeing it published is very super exciting!
> 
> emotional preparation for the next chapter is advised


	11. how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist

_cw: panic attack; v*mit; self-destructive thoughts; feelings of grief; description of a bloody injury_

**APRIL 1908**  
**an island in the North Atlantic**

The first thing she was aware of was the sound of water lapping gently against a shore, and so the first conclusion she came to was that she was with her family by the lake at their house in Hävla. She was lain on her front, enjoying the warmth of the sun against her back as her family played games and splashed in the water and laughed in the bright summer sun, like they did every year, escaping the bustle and smell of Stockholm for the freedom of the open lake and forest out to the west.

Except... Well, that was peculiar. Except that she couldn’t hear any of her family in the background, not Mama, not Papa, not any of her cousins. Not even Erik, who was the loudest of them all. There was only the wind whistling softly across the water.

And there wasn’t any heat or sun against her back either. In fact, it was really rather cold – and even beyond that, she appeared to be fully dressed, from head to toe, in what felt like very wet clothing. That was odd. Had someone perhaps played a practical joke on her while she had been napping?

The seagulls sounded overhead, and that was weird as well, because the seagulls so rarely made it that far inland, especially if it was as frigid as it appeared to be.

She tried to wiggle her fingers and was met with stiffness that came from overexposure to the cold. And when she finally managed to coax some feeling into them, instead of soft sand she felt a beach of rocks, and one of her feet appeared to be just dipping into the water, and-

Astrid blinked her eyes open to see a tumultuous grey sky, an angry ocean, a colossal mountain in the distance sticking out of the island she appeared to be beached on.

_Island._ Not boat.

The storm had been far worse than any of them could have imagined.

* * *

It took a long time to get enough feeling into her extremities in order to coordinate sitting up where she lay. Doing so took a surprisingly large amount of effort; she barely fought off the urge to fall unconscious once more as she pushed herself to standing on shaky legs. Her clothes were plastered to her body, her hair coming loose from its plait and blowing freely around her face, much like the strew of what had to be wreckage that lay up and down the small beach around her.

Her head spun as though someone had boxed her ears, and it took a while before the world stopped spinning enough for her to take a shaky step towards the treeline. If so much of their cargo had survived – a few crates were still intact, and other light items and chunks of their boat had washed up on the rocks and the sand – surely, _surely_, her companions must have as well. She refused to entertain the fact that anyone was dead. That Hiccup might be-

A choked sob escaped the back of her throat. But in all likeliness, even if the rest of them had survived, what was to guarantee them washing up on the same part of this island? Or on this island at all? Could the rest of them even swim? What would she do if she was the sole survivor? How would she navigate? How would she feed herself? Was there any fresh water? How would she sterilise it? How, how, how-?

She dropped to her knees and grasped at the ground as her stomach heaved and she threw up what remained from the previous night’s meal. She hoped that the tension in her chest might abate now she had emptied her stomach even of bile, but instead the tightness grew, making her pant for air. In her head, she was bludgeoned from all sides by a voice that found her worst nightmares and fed them back to her, piece by piece.

_You are all alone. _

_You are going to die. _

_Your friends are dead. It’s your fault. _

_You are going to die here. _

_Alone. Unnoticed. Unremarkable. Who are you, really? _

_Hiccup will never love you again. Hiccup is probably dead._

_It’s your fault._

_You’re going to die._

On and on it went, for what felt like eternity, long after she had run dry of tears. She was left with only the noise in her mind, hoping and praying that it would eventually abate and free her from its confines. Until then, however, she was trapped in her own hell, unsure when, if ever it would stop.

* * *

When her chest finally slowed, her body spent of all the nervous energy it could muster, Astrid noticed that it was raining again.

Lying on her back, eyes closed and face turned to the sky, she gave herself over to the elements. Her fingertips stretched out against the smooth pebbles beneath her; she felt the droplets of water on the exposed parts of her body and tried to guess where the next would fall. The inside of her wrist. On her collarbone. A sliver of skin where her skirts had been drawn up above her ankles. She sat up into it and smiled, drew a large lungful of sea air mixed with the wonderful smell of a burning campfire-

A campfire!

Someone had lit a fire. That meant there was another living person on this island. That meant there was warmth, possibly shelter.

And that meant that Astrid Hofferson was not going to die today.

Though every muscle in her body protested and the voice in her head, not yet beaten into submission, warned her off such a _futile errand_, Astrid got to her feet, balled her fists, and pushed herself off towards her salvation.

The shore quickly gave way to a treeline, a small forest not dissimilar in appearance to those she knew in Sweden. That was good – that meant there were likely to be plants that she knew were safe to be eaten. Though the light that made it through the canopy above was dim, she had her nose to guide her, the wind helpfully blowing towards her, carrying the inviting smell of burning salt-wood. All she had to do was get there. Her feet dragged in her boots, and the water-logged clothes on her back felt as though she was carrying a whole other person with her, but she ground her teeth and pushed through, knowing that once she reached safety she could collapse in a heap without any reservations.

Her heart fluttered when she heard soft voices muttering in a clearing up ahead. Voices she recognised. Her legs quickened beneath her, and she stumbled forward to grab a tree right on the edge of the clearing. It was all she could do not to burst into tears in joy.

“Ruffnut?” she croaked; her voice was hoarser than she’d been expecting. The farm girl’s head snapped up, recognition and relief painted across her face under a blanket of blatant sheer exhaustion.

“Astrid?”

Her braids had come undone, and her long hair blew freely in the wind, but Ruff rose to her feet without wincing or cradling any part of her body, and Astrid thanked any god that might be listening that her friend was uninjured.

Astrid let go of the tree that was largely keeping her upright and staggered forward, all but collapsing into Ruff’s arms in relief when they reached each other.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, are you?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I thought-” Astrid’s voice caught, wavering, as she fought off fresh floods of tears.

“Here, sit down, have a drink. I found a few flasks, we’ve got water…”

“_We_?”

Astrid’s heart rose as she turned, seeking their companion. Her eyes fell on a small man with dark hair under a rock shelf a few paces away, who threw up a hand in greeting.

“Hey, princess. I’m fine too, thanks for asking,” Snotlout slurred.

“Snotlout?”

“’Sup, ladies? The Snot man is here to…” His words trailed off into nothing as his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth went slack.

“Is he alright?” Astrid asked Ruff. Her friend shrugged as she passed her a water flask. Astrid uncorked it and downed three mouthfuls without drawing breath; her throat sang in relief.

“I found him on the beach a ways away from me. I think he hit his head on something, either on the boat during the storm or on the way into the beach. He threw up a bit on the way inland, then he passed out again when we got to this clearing, so I decided to make camp here, doubled back for some bits and pieces and managed to get a fire going.”

“How did you manage to get a fire going in this weather?”

Ruffnut smirked. “You’ve met me and my brother. Pyrotechnics is our speciality.” Her face fell. “You didn’t happen to see Tuff when you got out of the water, did you?” she asked quietly.

Astrid shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t see Hiccup, or Fishlegs?”

“I woke up on a small beach a few hundred metres south of here; there was barely room for me and Snotlout, let alone those two as well.”

Astrid nodded, unsure of a response to that. “Well, three of us made it. I’m sure they’re just a bit further north of here, what with the current. We can go looking for them.” She pushed to her feet and immediately swayed, blood rushing from her head and clouding her vision over. Ruff managed to catch her before she tipped too far to one side.

“Astrid, you need to rest. If they are alive after that, they’ll still be alive in a couple of hours. Besides, we can hardly leave Snot here on his own like this.”

“I thought you hated Snot.”

“I dislike his annoying-ness, I don’t want him to die,” Ruff snapped.

Astrid reached out a hand to rest on her friend’s arm, realising the displaced frustration for what it really concealed. “I’m sorry. I’m sure Tuff’s fine.”

“He’s my twin brother. We do everything together, always have. I… I don’t really know what I’d do if he wasn’t there anymore.”

“We’ll find him,” Astrid whispered, grasping Ruff’s hands in her own. “We’ll find all of them. I know it.”

Ruff nodded. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes. I think I found a spare shirt and some trousers in one of these crates.”

The two women worked together for the next few hours to establish what they could of a camp. Over the fire they built a spit of sorts, on which they dried Astrid’s dress and skirts; of the spare clothes that Ruff produced from a crate, the trousers could have been either Hiccup’s or Tuffnut’s (so similar they were in size) and fitted Astrid well enough to get by, but the only shirt they could find was one of Fishlegs’, which was akin to a nightgown on Astrid’s thin frame. She buttoned the shirt to her neck and tucked as much of the fabric as possible into the waistline of the trousers, but Ruffnut still giggled at the sight of her when she re-emerged from behind the sheath of rock under which they took shelter; Astrid couldn’t help but join in briefly, letting herself relish in the banality of it all. However, the laughter soon wore off as the reality of their situation came back to the forefront of their minds, and the mood sobered somewhat as they ate a meagre dinner of leafy greens that Ruff had identified as edible and a can of tuna that had washed up on the same beach as Astrid.

Snotlout managed a mouthful and a half before he threw his share back up.

As the sun went down, so did the temperature, and soon it was a fight against the elements to stay warm. They split the dried clothes between them, draping a large petticoat over an unconscious Snotlout in the absence of a suitable blanket, before huddling together under the sheath in an attempt to preserve as much body heat as possible.

The clear sky was both a blessing and a curse – there was no rain to snuff out their campfire during the night, but the lingering warmth of the day was leeched from their surroundings in the instant after the sun disappeared below the horizon. Astrid shuffled closer to Ruffnut in search of warmth, but it was a long while into the night before sleep finally found her.

* * *

A twig snapped; that was enough to rouse the two women from light and broken sleep. In the sky, the first signs of dawn were visible, pale pink soaring across the sky from the east towards a full moon high on the western horizon.

But a second snap in as many seconds shocked Astrid out of her daze and she instantly rolled to her knees, their sole knife in her hands in an instant as she took up a defensive position; beside her, Ruff leant over to the fire to grab a large stick, raising it to chest level as the two women closed ranks.

“Who's there?” she called. “**_Vem är där_**?”

The snapping came closer, enough to distinguish it as at least two people walking closely together. At her side, she heard Ruff repeat her challenge in Gaelic, their eyes frantically scanning the surrounding treeline for any indication of movement.

And she heard his response then, a brother calling for his sister in their mother tongue. A wave of relief rushed over her, and Astrid resisted the temptation to fall to her knees in thanks. If Tuff had survived too, and there were at least two people there...

_Please, please, let it be him, let him be alive..._

Whomever she had pled to was obviously feeling generous, because before she had even finished her prayer, she saw Hiccup enter the clearing at Tuff’s side.

She didn’t care what the others saw. They were stranded on a desolate island, with no concept of where they were or how to reach safety. Their provisions were dwindling and their chances of survival unclear.

She strode right up to the man she had loved since she was fourteen years old and kissed him full on the mouth for all the world to see.

It was only a little embarrassing when he fainted a second later.

* * *

He had absolutely not fainted _because_ Astrid had kissed him, but he suspected none of the rest of them were ever going to tell anyone otherwise if they did ever manage to get off the island.

He’d really fainted because of the rather large wounds on his leg, which had produced so much pain that on trying to stand up and walk that he’d nearly blacked out, and it had fallen to Tuff to half-carry him towards the trail of smoke in the distance that was their best chance of survival. They’d staggered through the trees with his leg in utter agony for what felt like hours until the clearing had come upon them, and the girls and Snotlout with it.

And despite the dire situation they found themselves in, all through their desperate search for survival, Hiccup had begged any god that might have been paying attention for the safety of his friends. For Astrid's safety. The relief he’d felt when he’d come into the clearing to see her alive and uninjured was beyond expression. The kiss she'd given him, in which he felt her desperation and affection, had just proved too much for his brain to process in that moment.

This he reasoned to himself within seconds of being aware of being conscious again – which was, as it happened, infinitely better than how he had woken up the first time on this island.

Blinking his eyes open, he made out a tangle of blonde hair resting just above his brow.

“...strid,” he managed to mumble through the haze, one hand rising lazily in what started as an attempt to run his fingers through it. In reality, his hand wobbled in the air in a largely aimless manner before falling in tiredness and narrowly missing smacking himself in the face.

He felt her hands immediately move to cup his face. He decided he liked that a lot. “Hiccup? Are you awake?”

“...ort of,” he muttered, exhaustion limiting his words. “...ou alrigh…?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, we're all okay,” she promised, stroking her hands through his hair. He decided he liked that a lot too.

He shifted his head in her lap and groaned as the movement jostled his bad leg. Though the swelling had gone down, and someone had clearly dressed his wounds, the pain was still very much present. When he had first come to on the beach, his first thought had been only pain searing from below his left knee; upon finally coordinating himself enough to sit up and inspect the wound more closely, he saw three large gashes that criss-crossed across his left calf, two mostly superficial but one deep enough to reveal tendon that shifted as he wiggled his toes.

He turned to one side to avoid spraying his vomit over his own clothes, and narrowly missed Tuffnut with it, who was unconscious a few feet to his right.

The beach they had arrived on was large, and he could make out several pieces of boat and cargo that had washed up on it too. This was both comforting and abjectly horrifying in equal measure; that they had something resembling usable supplies drastically increased their chances of survival, but the force it must have taken to tear such a craft apart did not bode well for the chances of the others making it too. A quick look up and down the beach from where he sat confirmed there was no one else but Tuffnut visibly around him. A waterskin sat barely five metres from him in the edges of the water, its leather cord gently tousled by each break of a wave, and he tried to crawl over to it, desperate to clear his mouth.

The noise he’d made on trying to move his leg had brought Tuffnut round from his unconscious state fairly quickly.

Tuffnut was not the most… _intellectually_ gifted member of their group, it would be fair to say, but Hiccup could not have been happier to have him there with him. At Hiccup’s direction, Tuff managed to break into a crate that had washed up nearby and dug out a bandage to bind his leg.

Once his leg had been strapped, Hiccup’s mind cleared enough for him to think beyond the here and now. They’d clearly been wrecked by the storm, washed up on the island they’d made a desperate dash towards as the clouds closed in around them. And now they needed to find a way to survive long enough to get off it. There was no way of knowing how long they’d been unconscious for, but Hiccup guessed that it was late afternoon, wherever they were. Not many hours of daylight remaining to them.

Their initial plan to head inland and find the others - Hiccup refused to believe that they weren’t also there, just somewhere else - was quickly disrupted by Hiccup’s inability to bear weight on his bad leg. They’d barely made it to the treeline before he’d passed out from the pain.

When he’d woken next, it was the middle of the night and Tuff was tending to a tiny fire a few feet away that he’d quickly smothered as they set off again. The time before dawn was hazy, tainted by the pain that drew slashes across his memories and conscious thought and Tuff’s grunts as he half-carried Hiccup towards a fire in the distance that had to be the others, _it just had to be_…

Coming back to himself, he shifted himself in Astrid’s embrace again, and hissed as fresh tendrils of discomfort shot up his leg. Though the pain was unpleasant, it had the unintended benefit of clearing his mind from the haze of sleep, and his brain slowly began waking back up properly.

“Do you want some water?” she asked. “Here…” She leant out of his field of vision, but returned quickly with a flask that she held as he shuffled himself carefully up so that his back was resting more or less upright against her chest.

The water was bliss in his dry mouth, and he had to be careful to make himself go slowly to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally cough any back up. Fresh water was likely to become a precious commodity very quickly. He wasn’t going to waste it.

“Thanks,” he muttered, handing the flask back to her and taking in his surroundings for the first time. They appeared to still be in the clearing he’d collapsed in, with a fire pit smouldering away in the centre and a makeshift lean-to created against a large boulder on the opposite side of it from where he and Astrid were sat. Inside, he could see Snotlout and Ruffnut laying long grass down on the floor; outside, Tuffnut was laying fir branches over the poles to make a larger roof.

“Are you guys all alright?” he asked softly.

Astrid’s hands resumed their gentle caress through his hair. “Yes, all of us here are fine,” she said. He couldn’t see her face, but he could tell that she was suppressing something in her tone.

“What is it, Astrid?”

Her hands stopped momentarily. “You should eat,” she said evasively. “I think Tuff found some dried meat in one of the larger crates-”

“Astrid.”

“-or there’s some pine nuts somewhere -”

“Astrid.”

“You should eat,” she said again.

It took him a second to place it, dulled by the pain as his mind was. But then the pieces slowly fit together. There were four other people in this clearing that he’d seen. They’d been six total when they’d set off from Glasgow. _All of us here are fine_, Astrid had said. As if all of them weren’t there. As if one person was missing.

“Where is he?” Hiccup croaked.

Astrid’s chest shook with a shakily-taken breath as she pulled him tighter against her. “We haven’t found him yet. Ruff and Tuff went to look while you were unconscious, checked all the beaches they could get to, but…” Her voice trailed off into nothing.

“He might be somewhere else,” Hiccup insisted. “He’s probably on the other side of the island.”

“Probably.” Her lips pressed to the top of his head.

“He’s fine.” The tears began falling. “He’s fine, he’ll be here any minute-”

“Hiccup.” She had started crying too. He could feel the drops on his forehead

“He’s not… he can’t be…”

“Hiccup.”

“It’s my fault. It’s my fault he’s… it’s…”

On the other side of the campfire, he briefly saw the twins embrace each other, Ruffnut’s shoulders shaking visibly even at that distance, before his own tears obscured his vision beyond use.

The day drew on and for a short while the thought of Fishlegs fell from the front of their minds as they busied themselves with sourcing food and water, taking stock of their provisions, and they could all pretend that nothing was wrong, that he was just off on an errand and would return any minute rambling about some species of plant that only he knew about. But as the darkness fell and they huddled under their hastily-built shelter in the soft downpour, his absence could no longer be ignored in the same way.

It was a long time before any of them managed to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna....
> 
> [don't lose hope!]


	12. summer evening breezes blew, drawing voices deep from you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s a lot of actual Gaelic in this chapter, so for clarity:  
\- 'athair' is Gaelic for father  
\- when Ruff calls Tuff a “cacan”, she’s calling him a wee shite  
\- when she calls him "clag deireadh", she’s calling him a bellend  
\- Snotlout is politely asking that everyone shuts the fuck up and listens to him
> 
> [If, by any chance, there are actual Gaelic speakers reading this fic:  
\- I’m sorry for butchering your language a little bit (a lot)  
\- please feel free to offer more accurate translations]

_cw: brief description of a healing bloody wound [second and fourth sections]_

**MAY 1908**  
**an island in the North Atlantic**

_When I open my eyes, and see my surroundings, I don’t think I’m on the island any more. At least, I can’t tell for sure that I am._

_There is a cove around me. Its walls are higher and more sheer than I could hope to climb, and there doesn’t appear to be a way to walk or scramble back up to the top. I turn in a circle, and as the cliffs behind me come into view, so does a shield that is wedged between two boulders. I walk towards it on instinct; the pattern coalesces into view, a white background with blue and pink intertwined snakes. I don’t recognise it, yet it is somehow familiar to me._

_I turn back to face the cove. All the light is tainted slightly blue, and the sky above me appears cloudy, enough that the sun is not directly visible. In the background, there is a noise like the rushing of a stream, but the only visible water is the pond in front of me, and that’s completely still._

_I’m clothed, I notice for the first time. Of course I’m wearing clothes, but the texture of the fabric on my arms and legs is both unfamiliar and like the presence of an old friend at the same time. I look down at my arms and find a green woollen tunic, with a jacket of a material I don’t recognise over my chest. Trousers in the same heavy wool as the tunic. Warm, fur-lined boots. And I’ve shrunk, too. As tall as I was maybe at fifteen, maybe even younger. My movements are more jerky and awkward than they should be. What’s going on?_

_The noise of the water - **or is it something else**? - rushes up to a crescendo and then comes to a complete stillness, all within a few seconds. Some foreign force takes control of my feet and moves them forward to the edge of the pond. I kneel down and peer into it._

_The face in the reflection is mine and not mine. It’s my face at the age of fifteen, but not my face. Something is different about it. The hairs rise on the back of my neck. Something is different about all of this._

_There is a deep growl to my right._

_My head whips round, but there is nothing but boulders and plants there. I turn my head to the left and meet a pair of piercing green eyes._

_And shining black scales._

_And a jaw of perfect white teeth._

_I’m rooted to the spot in fear. I daredn’t move. I daredn’t breathe. This thing is several times larger than me. It could kill me in a second and I wouldn’t even know it._

_But he doesn’t want to kill me. Beyond all reason, I know that he doesn’t want to hurt me at all. **He**. I know it’s a he, too. How do I know it’s a he?_

_The dragon - **I’ve never seen a dragon, so how can I know that that’s what it is**? - noses towards my hand, which has come to rest outstretched towards him without me knowingly moving it. With a shaking arm, I stretch out in a way that feels like muscle memory as if to touch his nose, but the dragon growls and withdraws from me. I try again, with the same response._

_A memory stirs inside me that is not my own. It rises to the surface of my consciousness - **is that the right word? If I’m dreaming**? - and prompts my next actions._

_My hand goes out a third time, but this time my head drops and turns away. I think I close my eyes too._

_After a few eternal seconds, I feel the cool heat of dragon scales against my fingers._

_I shudder, and turn my head round to make eye contact with him. His eyes are closed in submission, but as he feels me tense with fear the great green emeralds in his face blink open once more. I prepare for him to attack, or simply to run away in self-defence, but instead his mouth widens in what I think is supposed to be a smile (albeit a toothless one), and his face noses even closer to me, until he is barely inches from my chest-_

_A harrowing war cry echoes from somewhere far away, and the dragon starts, turning round and spreading his wings, a growl emanating from his bared teeth that have somehow reappeared in his mouth. I step forward to see if I can help, but the dragon sweeps me behind him with a move of his tail and a flap of his wing. I try again, but he repeats his actions. His head swings round and he gurgles at me. **Stay there**, he seems to say straight into my head. **I’m looking after you this time.**_

_Another far off call sounds, but this one is softer, more animal. The dragon’s ears prick up and he takes off suddenly, but in doing so he accidentally knocks me over. But I don’t land on the earthy ground like I expect to. I fall down to it- and keep falling. Falling. Falling. The world around me is dark. Falling. Some fluorescent, vibrantly coloured lights appear around me, too bright for me to focus on closely. Falling. A shape moves past me in the darkness. A book in a language I don’t recognise. A giant skull. A horned helmet._

_On and on I fall. A great fur hurtles past me that smells of home and yet doesn’t. I reach out to grab it but miss by a few seconds. As I move my hands to reorientate myself in my fall, one of them brushes against cold leather. My head snaps round; I get barely a glimpse at the leather saddle before it vanishes back into the darkness._

_The ground comes up without any warning except a great rush of clicking that swells to a crescendo and then cuts out as I come to an unexpectedly graceful stop on the floor. I try to orientate myself, but there is only endless grey around me, no features or anything to situate myself with. I try to call into the space, but my voice fails me._

_My heart aches with loneliness._

_That’s when I hear the dragon again. I turn all around, but I am alone in the void that surrounds me. And yet I hear his call, like the welcoming purr of a cat. It stokes a warmth in my chest that I can’t put a name to._

_Then there’s a giggle and a pearlescent shadow that looks like Astrid dances into view. I try to move forward and touch her, but I am suddenly rooted to the spot, unable to move. Instead she comes to me and kisses me gently on the lips, cradling my face in her hands. I try to lurch forward, aching to call her name without being able to use my voice, but as soon as the body bind releases me, she, or the image of her, smiles and darts off into the distance at a pace I could never hope to match._

_Then there’s an actual voice. One that makes me burst with joy and sadness and grief and relief all at once._

_“There’s no going back now, son,” my father’s voice says all around me. “This is bigger than all of us. But you’ll have to do it without me this time.”_

_Finally my voice returns to me. “**Athair**,” I call desperately into the world around me._

_“Everything you need is within you. You are stronger than you know.”_

_“**Athair**-”_

_“You’ll do me proud again, **mac**.”_

_And then my father’s voice also fades out into the unknown._

_A noise rings in my ear, before being drowned out by a gentle pulsing noise. The sound of my heartbeat._

_A dark figure in the shape of someone I **know** I recognise materialises a short distance away from me, but I can’t work out who it is. I think it’s a friend, though._

_The figure’s outline becomes less hazy as they walk slowly towards me, but I can’t focus on their face for some reason._

_They stop two paces from me._

_“Hello, Hugh,” they say in the dulcet tones of home. “I’ve got something for you.”_

_Their arm appears from nothing and juts the knife in their hand straight forwards into my heart._

* * *

No matter how many times she asked him, Hiccup would not tell Astrid what had woken him in such a panic just after dawn. Eventually she had given up and simply taken him in her arms and soothed him until his breathing had evened out and sleep found him once more. Sleep, however, was not as generous with her, and after a fruitless half hour of trying to rest Astrid begrudgingly opened her eyes and listened to the birds sing as light lazily stretched out across the grey sky above them from the east. The rain had abated at some point in the night, and though most everything was still damp to the touch, there was no more water dripping down the rock shelf and make-shift lean-to that had done a good job of protecting them from the elements.

Careful not to wake Ruff, who was sprawled out as much as was possible on her other side, Astrid rolled onto her back and pulled Hiccup with her, careful to avoid touching his injured leg, until his head lay on her shoulder. In his sleep, she saw him smile before wrapping his arms around her and quickly settling again.

It was a long while before any of the rest of them stirred properly; Astrid eventually gave up on waiting once the sun had come up fully, and went off to relieve herself and make a start on relighting the fire in the middle of their clearing. Once the fire had taken, she sat out in the open next to it warming her fingers and staring into its depths like she’d done with so many other fires before as she pondered their short term future. While the clearing that Ruffnut and Snotlout had first arbitrarily settled in was currently serving its purpose as a camp, it was clear that it would have to be improved upon in the long term. Who knew how long they would have to stay there?

A log in the fire crackled and snapped, and if Astrid hadn’t been watching it so closely she may have missed the way that, for a fraction of a second the sparks seemed to dance intentionally into the shape of an axe blade before fizzling out into the air.

“Astrid?”

She looked up across to the shelter, where Hiccup had sat up and turned around in his search for her, his face masked with barely-concealed worry.

“I thought you weren’t here,” he said as she made her way back around the fire. “I thought…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised him gently, and the anguish on his face seemed to melt away. “Want a hand up?”

Between them, they managed to hobble him round to the rock where she’d previously been perched; she then dropped to one knee to inspect his wounds. Though she tried her best to be as gentle as possible peeling back the bandage, her heart broke at each hiss of pain that passed his lips. For the most part, though, the wounds looked to be closing over, the shallower cuts already closed somewhat and the deeper one oozing sticky fluid as the skin tried to knit itself back together. They weren’t out of the woods yet - it wouldn’t take much for an infection to set it, and they would be helpless to treat it out here if the worse happened - but it was a step in the right direction. She let out a sigh of relief.

“So I’m not dying, then?” Hiccup said from above her; she heard the joking tone in his voice but raised a hand to lightly swat at his shoulder anyway.

“You better not be,” she said. “I don’t know how many bandages we have left, but we ought to be careful about using them. This one’s not too dirty; if we boil it in sea water it should get sterile. Well, sterile enough. Is that okay with you?”

He nodded. “You’re right, we need to be careful with our supplies. Who knows…” He didn’t finish his question out loud, but she could have filled in the blanks word for word anyway.

Astrid pushed to her feet, brushing her skirt clear of earth. “I’m going to go fill the pot with sea water. Don’t move.”

“But-”

“No, Hiccup. That’s a bad wound, and you need to let it heal, okay? You won’t do anyone any favours if you start running around on it before it’s better and make it even worse. Besides, you’re the brains of this operation,” she smiled briefly, before her face fell. “We’d all be screwed if anything happened to you. And I couldn’t bare it if…” She straightened, furiously blinking tears away before she addressed him again. “Promise me you’ll let me look after you. Please.”

His hands reached up and grabbed hers, his thumbs immediately coming to smooth over the back of her knuckles. “Okay,” he promised, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Okay, I promise you I’ll do my best not to get more injured or dead.”

She gave a humourless chuckle. “That’s all I can ask of you, I suppose.” She dropped her hands away from his.

“Astrid-”

“I’m alright, I promise,” she said before he could protest any more. “I just need some thinking time. You get to work on planning how we’re going to survive here, and by the time I’m back we’ll all be getting sorted to go home, yeah?”

Hiccup nodded and smiled. “I love you so much,” he said. It was all she could do to nod and walk away before her tears welled up and over.

She’d meant it flippantly when she’d asked him to sort their situation out. Not that she thought he wasn’t capable, but more that the whole thing had an element of hopelessness to it, no matter who was problem-solving it.

But the walk began to shift things, and as she stepped out onto the rocky beach and stared out at the open ocean, the wind seemed to blow the fear in her mind away, leaving only clarity. Dire though their situation was, nothing was impossible. If anyone could survive this, their group had a fairly good shot with their combined skills, even down a member. Out of instinct, her eyes scanned the horizon, desperate to make Fishlegs out somewhere on the island or out at sea. But there was nothing except a moving sailing ship, so distant on the horizon that she couldn’t focus directly on it for more than a few seconds. Too far away for them to try and signal. Too far away to help them.

Her frustration suddenly won the battle for control in her mind. She took a moment alone there to cry for her friends, those who were with her and those who were not, to release all the raging emotions that had hacked away at her conscience for the last day, and when the tears stopped flowing, she felt a grim determination take root inside her. A determination that had her turned on her tail back inland within seconds, the cogs of her mind whirring faster and faster with each step

By the time she returned to the clearing to find the others up and eating breakfast, she only needed to catch Hiccup’s eye to know that they’d come to the same conclusions. Difficult though their situation was, Astrid Hofferson wasn’t going to roll over and die without protest. Not if she had anything to do with it.

She moved around the fire to stand at Hiccup’s side, looking down straight into his eyes as they had a silent exchange of words. A tilt of his head. A nod of hers. A twitch of his lips into a smile.

Astrid turned back to the others, who were looking at her expectantly. “We have a plan,” she said.

* * *

“I found another tin of tuna!” Ruff yelled fifty metres to Astrid’s left, breaking her out of a short daydreaming spell. She turned and padded over to Ruff, holding their makeshift ‘bag’ (really a spare shirt with strategically knotted arms) open for her to dump the supplies into.

“Honestly, if we do survive and get back to Scotland, I think I’m swearing tuna off for life after this,” Ruff grumbled half-heartedly as she emptied her findings into the bag.

“If we do survive and make it back to Scotland, I’ll eat anything anyone puts in front of me,” Astrid said.

“That’s a dangerous thing to claim. Don’t say it in front of my brother.”

“Say what?” Tuff appeared holding a sodden pair of trousers and a wooden mug.

“Nothing.” The women chorused. Astrid quickly held the bag out for him to add his contributions to as a distraction.

After they’d all woken up properly, she’d sat them all around the campfire to explain her plan for the day; to her surprise, she’d received very little resistance to it. She, Ruff and Tuff, all uninjured and mobile, would set off to search all the beaches they could find for any more washed up supplies from their boat - it was fairly obvious to them all that it had been broken up to some degree during the storm, but none of them could really remember anything between sailing into the swell and waking up on the beaches of the island. Luckily, some stuff had floated onto the same shores as they had, and that meant there were likely other bits and pieces that could be useful to them. While Astrid and twins searched for scraps, Hiccup and Snotlout were to stay at the camp, keep the fire going, build the shelter up and take stock of their current supplies. When that had been done, they could start planning for the long term. Because they had a long term future. All of them did. She refused to believe otherwise.

She turned around and looked past Ruffnut down the coast. As she cast her gaze towards the mouth of a small stream, the clouds shifted overhead and the sun glinted briefly off something metallic that was mostly obstructed from view behind some nearby rocks.

“I think there’s something more over there,” she said, gesturing in its general direction. Ruffnut followed her line of sight and nodded before turning back to call her brother, who had wandered off again in search of more wreckage. “_**Oi, cacan! Faigh do asal thairis an seo**_!”

“_**Seadh, seadh, tha mi a ’tighinn**_,” Tuff replied, jogging over to rejoin them. “Did you find something?”

“I think there’s something on the other side of that estuary,” Astrid explained. “It looks big, it might take all of us to carry it.”

“Lead on, MacDuff,” Tuff grinned. Astrid rolled her eyes.

“You know, that’s actually a misquotation,” she said as they set off across the beach. “In the original text, Shakespeare wrote-”

“Wait, that saying is from Shakespeare?” he gasped.

“Well, yes, kind of, but everyone-”

“Ruff! You said I’d never be able to quote Shakespeare!” Tuff turned to his sister. “Pay up! You owe me four _**sgillinn**_!”

“Where am I going to get four shillings out here, you _**clag deireadh**_?” Ruff rolled her eyes and shoved her brother aside with her shoulder. “Besides, like Astrid said, that’s not even the real quote.”

“But it’s close enough…”

The twins continued their bickering as they made their way across the shallow estuary towards the object that had caught Astrid’s eye. As they curved round the edge of the shore, its outline became more defined, until she could establish that it was most likely a large object covered in brown leather. Which was odd, she thought, because their crates hadn’t been covered in leather when they’d left Glasgow, they’d just been simple wooden structures-

The detail on the leather was suddenly visible, and she took off running without hesitation.

“Astrid!” Ruff called after her as she sprinted up the beach towards what she thought was-

_Please be him, please be him, please be alive_…

By the time the twins joined her at the object, she was furiously blinking away tears as she used the knife tucked into her waistband to cut the crate open.

“What was that about?” Tuffnut panted, leaning onto his sister who quickly shoved him off.

“I thought…” She gave one final twist of the knife and the lid of the crate popped open. The brown leather vest that had become caught on one of the nails fell to the ground along with it. “I thought it was Fishlegs,” she said finally. “I saw his vest and I thought it was him. But it’s just the vest.” She turned and threw the knife in anger at a nearby tree; she was more than a little surprised when it stuck perfectly in the grain of the wood.

“How did you do that?” Tuff asked, their emotional distress momentarily forgotten. She turned back to the twins to see both their jaws hanging slack.

Astrid shrugged. “Beginner’s luck, I guess?” By now her tears had stopped, and she raised an arm to wipe the remaining ones away as she approached the tree to retrieve her knife. “The crate doesn’t look that heavy, I think two of us can manage it at a time and the third can carry the bag of stuff and trade in as needed.”

“Dibs not going first!” Tuff yelled, sprinting back into the treeline to avoid being selected. Astrid glanced at Ruff, who rolled her eyes a second after she did, before the two women stooped to pick the crate up between them.

They weren’t far from the clearing, and they only had to swap once (Tuffnut eventually relented and offered to take his sister’s place under Astrid’s death glare) in the twenty minutes it took for them to make their way back. Though they were still learning the area, it wasn’t hard to find the camp - on this occasion anyway. It would have been difficult for them to miss Hiccup’s disgruntled tones, guiding them back in the right direction.

He was coming to the end of his tirade as they entered the camp and set the crate down carefully with their other supplies.

“…stupid idea, even if you didn’t have a concussion-”

“But it was worth it, wasn’t it?”

“That’s not the point, Snot! Say you’d fallen into a hole and broken a leg and couldn’t move. How would we have known where you were, or how to help you?”

“But I _didn’t_ do that, so I don’t see what the point of you yelling at me for it is-”

“Problem, boys?” Astrid called; across the fire, Hiccup and Snotlout broke out of their argument and looked in her direction.

“Astrid, guys, hey,” Hiccup called a little sheepishly. “Did you guys find anything?”

She could tell from his tone, from the way his voice rose in optimism at the end of his sentence that he didn’t really mean supplies. But that was all she could give him truthfully.

“Just a few bits and pieces of clothing and wood, and this crate of food. It’s only half full but it’s better than nothing,” she said, moving over to stand next to where he was sat, resting his leg as instructed. His arms rose automatically to pull her into him as she approached.

“It is better than nothing,” he agreed, but she didn’t miss the way his face fell at what she didn’t say.

She leant down and placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “What were you guys arguing about?” she asked by means of distraction.

Hiccup sighed. “_Snotlout_ here thought it would be a good idea to go off on his own and do some exploring while I was occupied waterproofing the shelter some more.”

Astrid turned to Snotlout. “Snot, I told people not to go off on their own for a reason, you could have hurt yourself-”

“I’m _fine_, Astrid, I wish you’d all stop treating me like I’m not perfectly capable of looking after myself-”

“No, you’re really not, Snot, your head’s not better yet,” Ruff interjected from where she and Tuff were organising their latest addition to their supplies.

“What if something had happened to you, and we didn’t know where you were?” Astrid berated him. “What would you have done then?”

“See, that’s exactly what I said,” Hiccup said at her side, turning his head to look up at her.

“Would you guys stop being my parents for one second and actually listen to me?” Snotlout cut in, throwing his hands in the air.

“Snotlout, I hate to point out biology to you, man, but none of us could physically be your parents-”

“I know who my parents are, Tuff!” Snotlout buried his face in his hands and sighed.

“Well, Hiccup and Astrid could be, because, you know, they’re together, like, how grown ups are, but they’re not old enough to be your mum and dad-”

“I’m his cousin, Tuff, there’s more than one reason why that’s wrong on so many levels- and more than that, would you mind not commenting on mine and Astrid’s sex-”

“_**An dùnadh tu uile am fuck suas agus èist rium**_!”

Silence fell across the clearing at Snot’s outburst.

After a couple of seconds, Hiccup leaned over to Astrid. “He said-”

“I know what he said, Hiccup, I know enough Gaelic for that one.” Her eyes narrowed at Snot. “Go on, then.” He cowered slightly under her glower before straightening up and speaking.

“I found something.”

She could almost _hear_ Hiccup roll his eyes below her. “Are we playing the pronoun game now? _What_ did you find?”

“A village.” For a second, Astrid’s heart rose in her chest at the possibility that there might be other people on the island, only to be crushed somewhat by Snotlout’s next words. “At least, what’s left of one.”

* * *

Snotlout wasn’t wrong, it transpired. A quick hike back up the hill with Astrid and Tuff had confirmed that fairly quickly. There was what remained of a village - stone structures that had to be hundreds of years old that covered an area not dissimilar to the Haddock Manor gardens back in the Highlands. Hiccup listened intently as the group discussed it over a lunch of pine nuts and canned tuna.

“Well, this certainly changes things,” Hiccup mused, tapping his thumb against his bottom lip. “If there’s something bigger that we can adapt into, it’s probably best that we head up and settle there instead. We won’t be able to do maintenance on the lean-to forever - and what’s more to the point, we’ll probably all kill each other if that’s our only indoor space for the foreseeable future.”

“It’s not really _indoors_, though is it?” Tuff’s comment was swiftly followed by his sister smacking her forehead into her palm.

“My point is, if it looks like there’s a more sustainable option in the ruins, I think we should move up there and get established. Thoughts?”

“I agree,” Ruffnut said. “If only to get away from Snotlout’s snoring.”

“I have a concussion, you can’t blame me for it!” Snotlout protested, before relaxing. “I’m in too, by the way. And you’re welcome, for what it’s worth,” he mumbled.

“We’d have found it eventually anyway,” Astrid pointed out gently. “But for what it’s worth, good job, Snotlout.”

Hiccup smiled as Snotlout’s demeanour relaxed in response to Astrid’s complement. “Tuff?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not? Plus, there was that big door that looks super cool…”

“A big door?” Hiccup turned to Astrid.

“The village is staged up this hill; there’s a sort of plateau at the bottom and it slopes up to the bottom of this massive rock spire, the one you can see from the beaches,” she explained. “It looks like there’s some sort of cave there. Whoever was here before managed to make these enormous doors to cover the entrance; they must have been well over fifty feet tall at one point but the wood’s rotted away quite a lot. We didn’t go up to have a look, but it might serve as shelter for us better than what’s left of the buildings.”

Hiccup nodded, his mind already spinning away into plans and preparation. “Alright. We’re going to have to think this through.”

* * *

The village ended up being only a half an hour’s walk from their current location, but that was for a person who was both unladen and uninjured. With Hiccup’s leg restricting his movement, and all their supplies to carry, making the trips to and from their camps ended up taking them most of the rest of the daylight hours. The sun was setting as Astrid helped Hiccup cross the bridge on the final journey - a perilous expedition on account of the wood there having also rotted somewhat - and he tried to hold in his moans of pain as he collapsed onto his back on a large flat rock, legs dangling over the edge.

“Well done,” she muttered, one hand coming up to stroke through his hair again. “It’s alright, that’s it. That’s the worst of it over.”

He didn’t have the energy to respond with words, so he simply raised his thumbs in acknowledgement. He heard her chuckle lightly, before her lips pressed briefly against his.

“I’m going to go help the others get the supplies into the hall. It’s definitely safe from the elements in there, and once you’ve had a rest we can do the final stretch up there, okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed. He heard her begin to move off, and sat up as much as he could. “Wait, Astrid-”

“What? Are you alright? What is it?” She turned back, her face marred with concern, and he felt a little guilty.

“No, I’m okay, I’m fine, don’t worry, I just…” He offered a hand out towards her, and felt warmth rise in his chest when she moved forward to take it without hesitation. Gently, he tugged her back to him, until she was stood between his legs, mindful of not knocking his wounds.

He raised a hand, and gently swept her flyaway hairs to one side before cupping the side of her face and pulling her lips down to his.

Their kiss was deeper and more passionate than anything they’d shared since the storm, mostly by virtue of the fact that doing anything more felt a little bit wrong given their situation. But as Astrid whimpered and leant closer into him, her hands coming up to knot gently in his hair, for a minute Hiccup allowed the worries and concerns of the here and now to melt away, leaving only Astrid and the love they shared for each other and how, despite everything that was going on, how _right_ it felt to be held by her and to feel her hands in his hair and her tears against his cheeks- _wait_…

He pulled away to find her crying silently.

“Sorry,” she whispered, hands detaching from his hair to wipe her cheeks dry. “I just…”

“I know,” he said, his own tears starting to pool. “It’s hard.”

“What are we going to do, Hiccup?” she asked. “Are we just kidding ourselves about all this? Do we really have any chance of getting off this fucking island-?”

“Hey, hey,” he soothed her, hands running gently over the back of her neck to pull her forehead down to his. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to solve this.”

“How can you-?”

“Do you really think I’d ever let anything happen to you? To any of you?” His hands smoothed down her plait. “We have a plan. We know there’s food we can eat here. We’re going to get through this. I promise.”

“I love you,” she sniffled. “It might be the only thing I’m sure of right now, but-”

“It’s enough,” he assured her. “And I love you too.”

They stayed like that for a few more seconds until he felt her compose herself and step back. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, squeezing his hand before running off to join the others.

The sun inched closed to the horizon as Hiccup stared down at the ruins of the village, lost in his own thoughts. She was right, he reasoned. Astrid had every right to be concerned. In fact, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have the same worries. But as he sat and looked out at this forgotten civilisation, for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to panic. Instead, there was a sensation of calm running throughout his body, something akin to familiarity, a sense of home. The people he was with felt like home. Maybe that was it.

But there was a piece missing, and there was no escaping what it was. He cast his gaze out over the sea again, searching the waves for anything that could be their lost friend. But it was futile, and he knew it. Fishlegs had either found land somewhere else, or he was gone by now. There was no way of knowing which it was.

But while there was no way of knowing which it was, that meant that in Hiccup’s mind that Fishlegs was definitely still alive. He was just on the other side of the island, and it might take him a few days to find them but then they’d all be together and even though there was still so much that had to happen for them to get home, it would all be just that little bit easier. And so while there was no way of knowing whether Fishlegs was dead or alive, Hiccup could believe firmly that he was with them. Just somewhere else.

He was pretty sure there was an expression to do with that feeling, but he couldn’t recall the phrasing. Ironically, he laughed to himself, that would be something that Fishlegs would know instantly, walking encylopaedia as he was.

He was still reflecting internally on his friend’s merits when Astrid returned to him a short while later.

“We’re all set up now,” she smiled. “You ready?”

He nodded. “And I don’t have to move again after this?”

“Not for a week if you don’t want to,” she promised, stepping forward to take his weight again. “If it’s any incentive, Snot’s found some things that look like they’re from the people who were here last. He thought you might like to look at them. That should keep you busy for a few hours at least.”

The walk up to the great hall was utter agony after all the distance he’d had to walk that day already, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through the last few hundred metres, Astrid taking as much weight as she could for him.

The doors were, as they’d said, rotting away somewhat to the extent that there were some sizeable holes in places, but by some unknown luck the hinges they’d been built on still seemed to work as Astrid pulled one ajar to let them in. Inside, the hall was truly cavernous - at one time, it must have been the hub for life on this island. The roof was supported by great poles three metres thick, spaced out around the hall and illuminated softly by both the dying rays of sunshine that streamed in through the gapes in the doors and the small fire that Tuff was coaxing out of some firewood they’d collected as part of the journey up there. Behind him, Ruffnut was digging through their assembled supplies in search of dinner, and Snotlout was rustling around somewhere in the dark doing… well, something.

Astrid helped him to a seat in front of the fire on the great leather vest that had quickly been re-purposed as a bed roll, before heading off to join the twins with food preparation. Carefully, he eased his leg straight out in front of him, before pulling his trouser leg up to expose the bandage. He’d bled through it slightly with all the walking they’d had to do, but as he gently unwound it, he found to his relief that the bleeding was not as bad as he’d expected. The two shallower cuts were beginning to scab over, and the deeper one, though exacerbated by the day’s strain, was still making strides in the same direction. He checked the skin around it; no red streaks or green mucus that would indicate infection. It could be a lot worse.

As he carefully rolled the bandage up and placed it to one side to be sterilised at a later time, Snotlout appeared from the shadows with an armful of random items.

“Look, I found all this!” Snotlout said, clearly very proud of himself as he placed his cache down in front of Hiccup. “I thought it would be easier for you to have it all in one place, what with your leg and all.” He gestured loosely towards Hiccup’s lower half.

Hiccup felt a strange sense of gratitude for his cousin rise in his chest. “Thanks Snot, I really appreciate it,” he said. Snotlout smiled and walked over to join the others with the food preparations.

“I wonder what the people who lived here were like,” Ruff wondered aloud as she gutted a fish they’d found earlier. “I wonder what they did in here.”

“They must have been a large tribe,” Hiccup replied distantly as he dug through the pile. It was mostly worn bits of tapestries and some coins, but there were a few other larger pieces there too. “To have needed a hall this size. They must have been very powerful, well connected. Warmongering.”

“How can you know that?” Astrid asked softly, looking up briefly from their only cooking pot.

“This hall is large enough for several hundred people. Have you seen enough farming space on this island that could feed all of them?” Hiccup shook his head, before turning his attention back to the pile of debris in front of him. “So they must have had to buy in extra supplies from travelling merchants. Which means money. Which means power. Which means lots of victories in battle.”

“What happened to them, then?” Snotlout called. “They obviously don’t live here any longer. So where did they go?”

“They probably outgrew the space and left in search of larger lands. Maybe they went west towards the Danish lands that way; maybe they went back east to _**Alba**_. We may never know, with what little they-”

His fingers paused on a circle of metal that, despite the dirt that it had collected over several hundred years, still clearly bore a tribal crest. One that he recognised.

“With what little they what, H?”

His pulse raced as his mind processed the irrefutable evidence in front of him. Could it be possible? Had the history he'd been taught been so inaccurate? It was highly likely - stories passed down through generations over a thousand years tended to get warped a little.

“Hiccup? Are you okay?” He felt the gentle touch of Astrid's hand on his shoulder; he hadn’t heard her approach in his spell.

“Hiccup?”

Words would not come.

“Hiccup, what is it?” A tentative hand on his cheek brought him back to the present, gave him enough competence to string a sentence together.

“I was wrong,” he whispered, turning his head in her touch to look up at her. She raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Well, you usually are, cousin. But about what in particular on this occasion?”

He didn’t miss the smack of someone's boot colliding with Snotlout's shin but at that moment, he didn’t care whose it had been.

“About this tribe. They weren’t warmongers. Well, they were for a long time, but then they became peaceful and that’s what made them successful. And also what made them have to to leave here.” Astrid’s face brightened with recognition.

“How can you possibly know all that from looking at one stupid piece of metal?” Ruffnut called.

“Because it has a crest on it. Our crest. Or, rather, what our crest used to look like, before we were unified into Clan Haddock.” Hiccup turned to meet his friends' gazes. “This isn’t just any tribe's history we've stumbled upon. It’s our own. It’s the Hooligans'. This isn’t just any island. This is our homeland.”

He took a deep breath. “This is Berk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Troy Bolton meme*
> 
> \- reveal plot spoilers to reassure people that I'm not a heartless monster
> 
> \- maintain my storytelling structure and don't piss off the people who want it to be a surprise
> 
> you know what I'm gonna settle for updating the warnings without comment and hope that's a calm middle ground
> 
> thanks for reading!


	13. history repeats itself in phases

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the archive warning as I realise it was misleading
> 
> give me one more week and I promise you'll find out what happened to Fishlegs!!

**MAY1908**   
**Berk**

The great hall they had relocated to the day before would definitely keep them safe from the elements come torrential rain or beating sun, but it was far too large for them to actually heat in any significant way, and while that wouldn’t be so much of a problem in the upcoming summer months, it would definitely become one as the seasons began to turn again later in the year. Instead, they had decided to use it as a supply room, and do their best to make modifications to the remaining stone structures that had previously formed the village houses. Some had been completely lost to time, the only indication that they had once stood at all a few great silvery stones that were otherwise out of place on the grassy hill, but some were more significantly more intact. Two were most suitable to be adapted; after a discussion amongst themselves they decided to do their best to rebuild the largest one first, then attempt the second once they had established some sort of permanent structure to use.

There weren’t just ruins of houses there, though. As they began a thorough comb of the village the next morning looking for rocks that might still be serviceable for construction, they found a few items that had not been completely destroyed over the years. A handful of silver coins with the tribe’s insignia stamped on. Some rotted ploughing equipment. In a large building at the bottom of the hill, they found metal tools that still looked to be serviceable. Even better was the great well of water that sat there, happily collecting rainwater that they would be able to drink without fear of getting ill. Coupled with a great circle of stones in the middle which was likely to have served as a forge fire, they concluded that it must have been a blacksmith’s shop at some point.

The house they were planning to rebuild first was at the top of the hill nearest the hall, which had the unfortunate consequence of requiring all the supplies they found in the village ruins to be brought up to it. Astrid and Tuff took it in turns carrying up suitable rocks to add to the pile that they would use to assemble their new dwelling. It was long, tiresome work, but Hiccup had insisted that they take it slowly so as not to injure themselves, that they did still have some form of shelter and there was no great rush to construct a new one. Meanwhile, Ruff and Snotlout had been sent off to gather more edible plants, and see if there were any other sources of food that they could tap into for the duration of their stay, however long it might be. It wasn’t a list filled with tasks that provoked excitement and wonder, but if they were going to survive in the long term it was necessary to get these things done.

Astrid took a deep breath before squatting down to pick up her latest load, making sure to lift the rocks carefully and slowly. She hadn’t gone more than fifteen paces when her foot scraped over something metallic half-buried in a patch of long grass as she made to head back up the hill. She stooped down to inspect it, laying the rocks to one side before pushing the blades aside to find a large chunk of metal sitting half-covered in dirt. Carefully, she brushed the dirt aside until one whole side was uncovered. It was rusted a little around the edges, but as she carefully pulled it free of the soil she saw the way it tapered into what must once have been a razor-sharp deadly point, the way the rotted handle came with it from the ground. An axe. Hundreds of years old, by the look of it. 

Ahead of her, Tuff was slowly making his way back down the hill. She flagged him down before he collected another load, waving him over to join her.

“Ooh!” he said excitedly as he recognised what was in her hands. “That’s neat.”

“It is pretty interesting,” she agreed. The weight of it, though slightly off-balance, felt incredibly comforting in her grip. “I’m going to take it up to Hiccup for safekeeping; I thought it might make a good opportunity for us to take a break.”

“A long enough break for a nap?” Tuff asked hopefully as they began trekking back up the hill. Astrid rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep a smile from creeping onto her face.

“Sure, Tuff. I’ll wake you in half an hour.”

Sure enough, as they reached the top of the hill where Hiccup had set himself up preparing lunch, Tuff immediately sprinted off, found himself a dry patch of grass near where Hiccup was sat and flopped down straight to sleep, arm falling dramatically over his eyes. Hiccup chuckled as Astrid approached a few seconds later.

“I don’t think even newborn babies sleep as much as our Tuff does,” he said once she was in earshot.

“I can still hear you,” Tuff’s mumbled response came.

“It was a compliment, Tuff.”

“Oh. Sweet.” He was snoring seconds later.

Astrid rolled her eyes again; in front of her, Hiccup smothered a laugh in response. “What’cha got there?” he asked, gesturing to her hands. She stretched the axe out towards him wordlessly.

Hiccup smiled. “An axe? Not really your style, is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Hiccup,” Astrid said, smiling as she tossed the axe around in her grip. It felt like an itch she’d been desperate to scratch. “I think we might have an understanding, this axe and I.”

He laughed. “The handle might need replacing, but if you sharpen that blade with a rock it should get sharp enough for us to use. Which is good, because if we’re going to be here for a while we’re going to have to start thinking about chopping trees down for wood, for fires and construction. We’ll have to take good care of it if it’s our only metal tool, it’ll blunt quickly. But if we get some wood, I might be able to design a rudimentary whetstone so that someone can sharpen it regularly.”

She nodded in agreement, before holding the axe out to him. “Well volunteered.”

“Why do I have to do it?” Hiccup stuck his bottom lip out, but took the tool from her hands anyway. She could see his excitement at getting to examine an old artifact so closely.

“It’s your job, isn’t it?” she called, bending down to grab a water flask from next to him. “It’s not like I work in a forge, is it?”

“I don’t either,” he pointed out. 

She paused with the flask halfway to her mouth. “But… yes, you do, you and…” She turned and looked down the hill, a confused scowl beginning to deepen her features. _But he and Gobber, they’re just down…_ A flash of a memory tore through her mind too quickly for her to retain, but for a millisecond instead of ruins she saw tall wooden buildings, painted in all the colours of the rainbow, the nearest one to her quickly covered in shadows by something that flew overhead-

“Astrid?” Hiccup’s voice sounded strained; she wondered how long she’d been standing still for.

She looked back at him, then down at the axe in his hands. “I… I have no idea where that came from. Of course you don’t work in a forge.” 

“But you thought I did.” His voice wasn’t accusatory; if anything, it was soft and curious. She could see the way his eyes glazed over momentarily, almost hear the cogs in his brain start to whir at a pace she could barely keep up with. It was another couple of seconds before he spoke again.

“You wanted to know what my dream a couple of nights ago was about,” he said, before disconnecting from the inside of his mind and looking up to meet her gaze. “I didn’t want to trouble you with it at the time, because there was a lot of things that didn’t make sense.”

“And they do now?” she prompted softly, wondering what the connection was. 

He shook his head. “Not quite. But I think they may do, sooner rather than later.” His focus turned to the axe in his hands, turning it over and over like she’d done earlier. The motion wasn’t quite as smooth in his hands as it had been in hers, she noticed.

“What does that mean?”

He sounded a thousand years old at his next words. “It means there’s something else to this. To all of this. Something we can’t begin to understand. Yet.”

“Will we, at some point?” she asked.

His eyes drifted back out to sea, something in his gut pulling his focus to the west. “I hope so,” he muttered.

* * *

  
“No, turn it ninety degrees, Tuff.”

“What?”

“I mean, turn it one side to the right. That should be a better fit.”

“What?”

“How you’re holding the stone now, turn it horizontally once so the bit currently against your left hand is facing you. Then it should fit better in the wall.”

“I don’t get it.”

Hiccup sighed and buried his head in his hands. It was uniquely infuriating for him, being able to organise the reconstruction of the house, but not actually be able to stand up and help. He’d tried, of course, but Astrid had caught his eye as he was shakily pushing himself to his feet, and the look on her face as she’d slowly shaken her head was enough to make him sit back on his perch very quickly. He hadn’t tried again. 

Thankfully, Ruffnut came to his rescue. “Look, you _**gorach pios de cac**_,” she said, leaning over her brother’s shoulders and turning the rock for him. “Like that.”

Tuff looked at his sister with a sense of awe. “You’re so clever,” he whispered. 

Ruff rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, that’s because you got no brain cells in the womb and I got all of them.” She took the rock from his hands all together and placed it in the gap in the wall. “Like that, H?” she called over her shoulder.

“Yeah, perfect, Ruff,” he replied. “Snot, can you-?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m already on it.” Snotlout appeared from round the other side of the wall with a large box of mud and grass that they were using as make-shift mortar. Tuff stepped forward to help, slightly remiss at being shoved aside earlier, and between the two they quickly had the cracks around the stone filled with the mixture.

Hiccup caught sight of their work as they moved to the next section of wall and nodded his assent. “Good, that looks great! Let’s just hope the rain holds off for a couple of hours so it can set.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re going to have much luck with that,” Astrid said as she moved round from the other side of the structure. Her hand rose to gesture over Hiccup’s shoulder; he turned to see a storm front approaching from the south west.

“Of course.” He sighed. “Let’s get as much done as we can and see what happens when the rain stops. It shouldn’t be too heavy, it looks like a fairly small storm.”

They worked as efficiently as they could manage for the next half an hour or so, darting around to build the wall up as high as they could manage as the wind began to pick up and the first droplets of rain splattered against the stone.

In a few more seconds, however, and the rain was quickly promising to become more than a mild inconvenience to their construction efforts. As the downpour steadily worsened, Tuffnut and Snotlout stopped their work and stashed their tools in a corner to protect them from the elements, before beginning to sprint for the few bits and pieces that had been left outside after their meal earlier. In turn, Astrid and Ruffnut moved to take Hiccup under an arm each, taking his weight off his bad leg as they carried him the fifty metres up the hill to the hall, the rain starting to lash more heavily against their backs with each step.

Inside, it was surprisingly warm - warmer than it really had any right to be, in fact - but Hiccup dismissed this quickly as they stumbled into the hall, Ruff dropping out from under his shoulder to close the doors and keep the weather out. Ahead of them, Tuff and Snotlout were already at work reconstructing Ruff’s rudimentary spit over the fire, before stripping off their outer layers to hang over and dry. Astrid helped Hiccup to their bedroll, before taking his sodden jumper and adding it to the pile of clothing to be dried. As she pulled her own over her head, for a second her damp shirt rode up with it, revealing bare skin from her waist to just underneath her breast.

He stared into the fire and willed himself to not get hard as she sat down next to him.

“You alright?” she asked, gently bumping his shoulder with her own.

He turned to her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in until he could tilt his head down and press a kiss to the top of her hair.

“I’ve got you,” he muttered. “That’s all I need.”

* * *

With little else to do as the rain battered the small island around them, they settled for making an early dinner. Like all their meals had been, it was an eclectic mix of supplies for the remainder of their voyage that they’d manage to salvage from the wreckage and fresh greens that they’d identified as edible. The latter half of their food stores was largely thanks to Ruffnut, who was currently explaining how to identify the plants she and Snotlout had gathered on their expedition earlier that day.

“… and this is cow’s parsley; it and yarrow both look really similar, but it doesn’t really matter if you get them the wrong way round because they’re both edible, they just taste a bit different.”

“Right,” Astrid said, adding the plants to her growing mental list, wishing she had a pencil and paper to keep track of it all.

“Ooh! Wintercress! I’d forgotten that we’d found some of this.” Ruff grabbed a handful of the leaves and threw them into her mouth, chewing happily for a few seconds before pulling a face. “Ah. I’d forgotten that it was a bit spicy. Ahhh.”

“Here.” Hiccup leant over with a water flask; Astrid in turn passed it to Ruff who quickly downed a few mouthfuls before sighing in relief. 

“Ahhh, that’s better, thanks guys.” She wiped her mouth dry with one hand, before handing the flask back to Astrid. “What else…” She leant over for some shinier leaves off to one side. “This, I think, is sea beet. The leaves are like spinach, but you can dig these tubers up and cook and eat them like potatoes. Well, really small potatoes. But they’ll still be a good source of food. There’s a whole patch of them down on one of the beaches. And…” Ruff quickly scanned the sizeable pile of leaves and herbs they’d brought back. “I think that’s it for now. There’ll be other plants we can eat, but this is a good start. It gives me a bit more hope about our chances of survival.”

“Ruff, when did you learn so much about these plants?” Astrid asked as they started sweeping all the herbs back into a small box they were using as a storage container. “Your knowledge is just incredible, I don’t think even my cousins in Sweden who live in the countryside know this much.”

“I didn’t. I mean I know some things from working on a farm, a couple of times when Tuff and I have tried plants and it has not gone very well, but…” She trailed off into nothing, her hands stilling. “Huh. You know, I don’t really remember.”

In Astrid’s peripheral vision, she noticed Hiccup straighten slightly, ears pricking up as he began listening to their conversation more closely.

“How did you know which ones were safe to eat, then?” he asked gently.

“I just… did,” Ruff said. “My hands were searching through the bushes and I just knew inside me which ones were safe to eat, which ones to not touch with a ten foot pole. It was like someone else was telling me what to do.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Weird, right? Shall we have the sea beet tubers now? They won’t keep too long, and I’m desperate for something other than fucking tuna.”

They all laughed at that. “I concur,” Astrid smiled. “Need any help?”

“Nah, I’m good for a while,” Ruff said as she reached into one of the crates for their cooking pot. “Go talk to Hiccup, check on his bandage.”

“Thanks.” Astrid briefly squeezed Ruff’s hand before shuffling back round the fire to rejoin Hiccup, who was staring intently into the flames. For a second, they sat in mutual silence until he spoke softly.

“Ruff’s getting knowledge she shouldn’t have, too,” he noted.

“Do you think she realises?” She shifted to hide the fact that they were having a conversation, laying down until her head came to rest softly in his lap.

“No. This is still only a working theory - heck, we don’t even know how far this goes, or for what reason we’re suddenly getting all this knowledge. She’ll probably just chalk it down as something she learned as a child. Hopefully. I want to know more before we start having discussions about it.”

“Mmm.” She shuffled a little before settling on her back, her eyes falling shut. “I’m so tired. Lifting all those rocks today really sapped my energy.”

“Why don’t have you have a quick sleep while Ruff cooks?” he said. She felt him adjust his position so that he could run a hand through her loose hair, and she leaned into his touch eagerly.

“Way ahead of you on that one,” she muttered. His subsequent soft laughter was the last thing she was aware of before sleep took her.

* * *

  
The food that evening was by far the best they’d enjoyed since being stranded, and they all took their time savouring the warm tubers and a ration each of some dried pork from the supplies they’d manage to salvage. After a long day of physical labour, they all ate their fill eagerly, and for the first time they actually felt somewhat full when they stopped eating. 

By the time they’d finished and cleared away, Hiccup could no longer hear the patter of rain against the doors, the rain having finally passed them by. At his side, he watched Astrid make the same evaluation, before stretching her arms out and yawning loudly.

“Alright.” Astrid got to her feet, reaching for the axe that he’d worked into a sharp blade over the course of the afternoon, what with him having with little else to do to feel useful. “I’m going to go and chop some firewood before we lose all the light.”

“But isn’t it still raining?” Snotlout pointed out.

She padded over to check outside the door. “I don’t think so, I can’t hear anything… Nope. Clear sky. I reckon there’s still about an hour of sunlight left, maybe less. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Astrid, wait.”

She paused with one hand on the door as he struggled to his feet. He watched her roll her eyes and sigh before carefully placing the axe on the floor and darting back to grab his arm as he stood mostly on one leg. The pain from his wounds was moderate, but dull more than sharp, and he was desperate to get up and move again.

“I just want to go for a walk,” he said before she could open her mouth to protest. “And I promise that I’ll sit well away from you while you’re swinging the axe around.”

“You think so little of my ability to hit a tree cleanly with an axe?” she joked as they made their way back towards the door. 

“I have complete faith in you,” he said as she stooped to pick the tool back up. “I just thought you might get cross with me if I got any more injured.”

“You’d be right about that,” she laughed, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Come on, you.”

There was a larger forest back over the rickety bridge they’d crossed the day before, but that wasn’t a feasible option with Hiccup’s leg still injured. Instead, she gently helped him a short distance down the hill to a smaller copse of trees that encroached slightly onto the plot of what had been the village. There was a small clearing slightly off to one side, with a large boulder for Hiccup to sit on and watch her as she worked. 

Once in the clearing, she dropped the axe to one side so that she could use both hands to lower him onto the boulder as gently as possible. He hissed a little as he sat down, and she immediately fell to one knee, hands smoothing over the bandage. “Where does it hurt?”

“Astrid, it’s fine.”

“It’s not, Hiccup, I knew I shouldn’t have let you come with me,” she said, probing his deepest wound through the bandage.

“Astrid, please,” he said, one hand moving to gently pull her chin up until she could see his face. “Please don’t patronise me,” he asked, voice wavering slightly. “I don’t like feeling incompetent. Please, just… let me be myself.” The hand on her chin moved to cup her cheek, thumb smoothing slowly over the skin.

“Okay,” she whispered. She rose a shaking hand to mimic his actions on his own face. “I’m sorry.”

They stayed like that, Astrid crouched between Hiccup’s legs, Hiccup leaning down towards her, for a few more seconds until he gently pulled her upwards. She rose gracefully to her feet, stepping forward until her body pressed against his upper chest, her fingers reaching into his windswept hair.

She was gorgeous to him. Not without fault, like any human was, but in this moment, as her hands cupped his face and her gaze roamed all over him, he felt like the centre of the universe. It gave him hope, warmed his chest, to know that whatever happened to them, he would never be able to doubt the way she felt about him. That even if the world beat him down to the ground, she’d be there to pull him to his feet and fight his attackers off. That no matter how his day went, he’d always come back to her at the end of it.

One of her thumbs trailed down his cheekbone and came to rest on his slightly parted lips.

He exhaled heavily and brought her even closer in his embrace. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you more than anything in the world.”

Her forehead came down to rest on his, and she smiled. “I love you too,” she whispered.

They stayed like that as the sun began to set around them, the only noise the wind amongst the trees, and for a little while Hiccup allowed himself to indulge in her touch and her love, no interruptions, no complications.

Until a branch snapped somewhere over Astrid’s shoulder. Immediately, she broke apart from him and took up a defensive stance, turning around so that Hiccup was behind her.

“What are you doing?” he asked. She shushed him, eyes frantically scanning the trees around them.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” she said quietly. “Something snapped a branch.”

“It’s probably just one of the others-”

A second, heavy snap brought him to silence very quickly. None of the others could have snapped a branch with that much force. He made to stand up behind her, but she gently shoved him back down to where he was perched on the edge of the rock.

“Astrid, let me-”

“What are you going to do, Hiccup?” she snapped. “You’re in no shape to fight anyone.”

“Why would we need to fight anyone?” he asked incredulously. “It’s probably just the twins playing a prank on us-”

“I just feel like something bad is about to happen,” she said, eyes frantically scanning the treeline around them, a challenge made even more difficult by the slowly darkening sky. “There’s something there that’s not…” She stooped down to grab the axe, turning it over and over in her grip. Hiccup couldn’t help himself as he scoffed, but regretted it as her eyes flashed with irritation a second later.

“And what’s that going to help with?”

“If something comes at us, I’m going to throw the axe at it.”

“How could you possibly know how to throw an axe?” he hissed. The snaps of branches were coming more regularly now, louder and clearer.

“I just do, okay? The same way that Ruff is suddenly a gifted botanist, and how you know so much about smithing. The way we don’t understand what’s going on and yet we do.”

“Astrid, I-”

A large, scaly creature burst into the clearing across from where they were sat.

For a moment, they all froze. Hiccup could see the creature’s bright yellow gaze shift backwards and forward from around Astrid’s elbow.

“Is that… a dragon?” she whispered.

The creature - was it really a dragon? Hiccup wondered to himself - jumped at the sound of her voice, scurrying backwards towards the shadows and taking up a defensive stance.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, little fella,” Hiccup said, rising carefully to his feet and raising an arm. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

The dragon whimpered and looked again at Astrid’s axe. 

“Can you put the axe down, slowly?” he said gently, his eyes not leaving the terrified creature across from them.

“Are you crazy?” she whispered. “That thing is twice the size of us! This is our only means of defending ourselves!”

“Astrid, please, trust me,” he begged her. “It’s scared, it’s not going to hurt us unless we hurt it first.”

“How can you possibly-?”

“I just do!” he snapped as gently as possible. The dragon shuffled on its feet, clearly upset by his tone, and he composed himself before speaking again. “Okay? I just know the same way I know that if you were to throw that axe, you’d kill it in one blow even though you’ve never thrown one before. The way I know it’s a boy, and a baby boy at that, and it’s alone and scared and probably injured in some way. Please, just put the weapon down, slowly.”

Blessedly, she did as he asked without further protest. Carefully, she dropped down until she was low enough to lay the axe gently on the ground behind her. Then, she rose back into the air, hands held up by her head. 

Her actions had an immediate effect. The dragon immediately reappeared out of the shadows, and in the last of the light, Hiccup could see that it was a bright teal colour, about four metres long, something between a lizard and a bat, with a jaw of pointy white fangs sticking up towards the sky and great, inquisitive yellow eyes. It stepped closer to them, and Hiccup could see its nostrils flaring as it sniffed at his outstretched hand.

“Easy there,” he said softly. “Easy, that’s it. We’re not gonna hurt you. It’s okay.”

The dragon paused less than a foot from Hiccup. He could hear Astrid take in and hold her breath. She couldn’t move to help Hiccup without scaring it off; it might cause it to lash out and hurt him or her. Or both of them. She could only watch. He was rooted the spot, barely moving but for the rapid pulse of his heart in his chest and some shaky, shallow breaths as he tried to stay still despite the discomfort in his leg.

The sniffing stopped.

The dragon stretched its neck out the last few inches until its nose was pressed firmly into his hand and its eyes fell shut.

“Oh my god,” Astrid whispered next to him.

Under his hand, the dragon started purring. Then, beyond anything either of them could have predicted, it moved even closer and began rubbing against him. Both of them were rooted to the spot in utter disbelief, unable to do anything but stand and watch as the dragon curled around him, raising its head for him to pat. Tentatively, he raised a hand to scratch it behind the ears like he would a dog or cat, and to his surprise it began purring even harder.

Then, a call sounded in the distance, a noise that could not have been made by any human. The dragon raised its head and gave a shrill cry in response, beating its wings twice. Astrid flinched and stepped two paces away, but the dragon did not react.

“What are you-?” Hiccup began, but before he could finish, the dragon nosed his legs one last time before flapping its wings and taking to the night sky. It was late enough now that he could only keep track of it for a few seconds before it disappeared into the darkness. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought that, against the darkness, he saw the outline of something similar, but much, much larger, in the light created by the fire that came from its great long mouth.

He stood in silence, unable to move, unable to think beyond _what just happened_?

“Hiccup?” Astrid finally managed. He turned his head and found her face completely stunned, her blue eyes alight with fear and excitement in equal measure. 

His next words were barely more than a whisper. “This changes _everything.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did promise dragons!


	14. let your memories grow stronger and stronger...

_cw: very brief description of a healing wound with some fluids excreted (first section, almost immediately)_

**MAY 1908**   
**Berk**

“You’re pulling our legs.” Snotlout stared at them in disbelief.

The others were slack-jawed around the far side of the fire. Hiccup couldn’t blame them. He and Astrid were still rosy-cheeked from their dash back up the hill, the words of their sentences formed around shakily taken breaths borne from exertion and surprise in equal measure. His leg twinged with pain, and he wobbled slightly; in an instant, Astrid was under his arm and carefully lowering him to the floor. 

“I told you running on it was a bad idea,” she sighed as she worked on undoing his bandage. 

“You didn’t exactly stop me,” he pointed out, hands gripping at the ground beneath him as he processed his discomfort.

“Dragons don’t exist,” Tuff said, drawing his attention back to the others. “They just don’t. They’re fairy stories we tell the children in the Clan. They’re not real.”

“Well, I don’t know what else looks like that,” Hiccup snapped. “Unless the lizards in the North Atlantic have managed to evolve to breathe fire and fly without anyone finding out.”

“Hiccup, you can’t seriously expect us to believe you saw an actual, real life dragon,” Ruff said. “Even if the stories we know were true, the whole reason the tribe eventually moved back to Scotland is because the dragons all went away. No one has seen or heard anything that could resemble a dragon in nearly a thousand years.”

“Well, we’ve seen one now,” Astrid said, laying Hiccup’s used bandage to one side to be sterilised before reaching over towards the nearest crate for a fresh one. The exertion of their run up the hill had aggravated his wounds, and the largest of his gashes was leaking fluid - though thankfully it was no longer actively bleeding. He grasped his calf with both hands, encouraging the skin to stick together as she returned with a strip of fabric she’d cut off of one of Fishlegs’ shirts. “This will have to do, the one from yesterday is still covered in gunk,” she said to him briefly, before turning back to the group. “It was about twice the size of a human, thin, blue, yellow eyes. And then it flew off into the sky and breathed fire.”

“I wish I could breathe fire,” Tuff sighed, before wincing as his sister smacked the back of his head. 

“_**Cacan**_,” she muttered. “I’m not saying you’re lying, guys, but how can you prove it?”

“Well, if there’s one, there’s probably two. Or three. Or four. Probably many more than that,” Hiccup said, only hissing a little as Astrid pulled the makeshift bandage a little too tightly.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, unwinding it slightly before tying the ends into a knot. She dusted her hands off on her skirts, before standing back up with the others, crossing her arms. “Hiccup’s right. It’ll be back.” 

“Yeah, right,” Tuff scoffed. “Sorry guys, your prank isn’t going to work on me. If dragons really do exist, I’ll eat… oh, I don’t have a hat any more. Well, I’ll eat… one of the raw tubers. They’re rank.”

“Sure, Tuff,” Astrid said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again. 

“It makes sense,” Hiccup continued. “Our heritage comes from dragons. The place where the dragons hid themselves away is supposed to be in this part of the ocean. They probably have ties to this island in the same way we do.”

“Which means they’ll be back,” Astrid cut in. “So please, when you do see one, please don’t do anything that Hiccup or I wouldn’t do.”

“You have so little faith in us,” Ruff said, her tone icy. “You’d think we were all idiots from the way you two talk about us, and to us, sometimes.”

“I don’t think any of you are idiots,” Astrid said, looking slightly wounded. “I do think that you’re likely to respond instinctively when you do see a giant scaly lizard three times your size that can breathe fire, and I just don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

“And I’m sure you reacted perfectly,” Snotlout chimed in. “Little Miss Perfect, telling us what to do like always.”

“I’m trying to help you,” Astrid replied, her fists balling at her sides. Hiccup could tell how much she was desperately attempting to keep her temper in check for the sake of peace. “I’m trying to help all of us.”

“No, you’re trying to tell us what to do, again, and-”

There was a great thump outside the doors, and the room fell silent.

“What was that?” Tuff whispered. Astrid held up a hand to shush him, before quietly moving forwards towards the door. Hiccup tried to follow but had to smother a whimper of pain as he moved his leg; it was clear he wouldn’t be able to follow, despite the worry rooted in his chest at the thought of Astrid being in danger.

Across the room, Astrid pulled the door open a few inches and gasped. “Hiccup, it’s-”

The end of her sentence was interrupted by a large blue object appearing from outside and tackling her to the ground.

“Astrid!” Hiccup screamed, reaching out towards her in a completely futile manner. A few feet away, Snotlout leant down to grab the axe, before taking off towards the intruder.

“Get away from her!” Snotlout screamed, raising the axe as he neared the door.

“No, Snotlout, don’t!” Astrid’s voice came clearly and without any indication of distress. As the door swung open a few more inches, more moonlight streamed in, illuminating what was currently on top of her. 

“Snotlout, stop!” Hiccup cried. To his relief, his cousin obeyed straight away, lowering the axe in disbelief as the scene in front of him registered.

Astrid was not, as they’d feared, being mauled by the dragon that had come barrelling in through the door; instead, it was nosing against her chest, insistent for more pats and scratches. Hiccup could just about make out a slightly bemused expression on her face as she sat up and continued to comply with the dragon’s demands, which was now starting to purr happily again as she gave it attention.

Quickly, Hiccup turned around to check on the twins. Both of them stood completely still, mouths wavering as they took in the scene in front of them. Back by the door, there was a clang as the axe fell from Snotlout’s loosening grasp. The noise distracted the young dragon vying for Astrid’s attention, and it stopped and looked around until it found the source of the disturbance.

Then, it did something none of them were expecting. It almost seemed to dance with happiness, before returning to the door and slinking back out into the night. A shrill call was given, followed by a lower response.

“What is it doing?” Hiccup muttered aloud.

“That’s a dragon,” Snotlout whispered, his voice echoing around them in the largely empty hall. “That’s a real life, actual dragon, how the-?”

The door swung open wider as the small blue dragon returned with two others. These weren’t babies, though; these were fully grown dragons of the same species, longer than a house was tall and with wingspans to match. One was a shocking yellow colour that matched its eyes almost perfectly. It stopped to sniff and nose at Astrid, who immediately reached up with her hands to attempt to soothe the dragon in the same way she had done to the baby. It seemed to work; the yellow one began preening and curling around Astrid much like the baby had done around Hiccup earlier. But the red one, which was even larger than the yellow, didn’t even look to Astrid, or the small blue one that was still prancing around like nothing would calm it down. It had eyes only for one of them.

Hiccup couldn’t see his cousin’s face, but even from behind he couldn’t miss the way his whole body tensed, then relaxed, just knew instinctively that Snotlout’s expression was both shocked and disbelieving, full of terror and adoration in equal measure.

“Is that-?” Ruffnut began behind him.

“_Hookfang_?” Snotlout whispered, cutting her off. “Is that you?”

The great red dragon stepped fully into the hall, making a deliberate path towards Snotlout, who by now was overwhelmed with fear and recognition. As the dragon neared him, Hiccup saw him raise a shaky hand up towards the dragon’s snout, which was almost longer than Snotlout was tall. 

The whole room held its breath as the monstrous dragon bypassed Snotlout’s hand and nosed straight into his chest.

For a few seconds, Hiccup watched as Snotlout stood motionless; then, his hands rose on instinct, one coming under the dragon’s chin, the other smoothing down its nose. 

“Hookfang! I missed you so much!” Snotlout cried. “How could I…?” 

Everyone’s attention was fixed on the reunion; even the yellow dragon stopped begging for Astrid’s attention to watch Snotlout and the red dragon - _Hookfang? Of course it was Hookfang_ \- embraced each other with a tenderness Hiccup had not thought his cousin was capable of. Snotlout turned back towards the fire, one hand resting on his dragon’s head, and Hiccup could see the tears streaming down his face even at twenty paces.

“Snotlout, how do you know his name?” Astrid asked. Beside her, the yellow dragon picked itself off from where it had been happily resting on the floor to trot back over to join the red- Hookfang. In doing so, it caught one of its claws on a strip of tartan that Snotlout had been using as a blanket, ripping a small strip off by accident The blue one soon followed.

“I just… I named him,” Snotlout said, his voice calm and measured in a way that didn’t match the chaos of emotion on his face. “I- I named him, back when we first got him out of…” Confusion edged into his tone. “I remember, I mean, it’s not my memory, but I remember it, but I don’t…”

Hiccup turned across to Astrid who was slowly walking back to join them; he didn’t miss the look she gave him.

“What’s going on?” Snotlout asked, looking between them as understanding dawned on his face. “You two, what the hell is going on?”

“We’re not sure,” Astrid said as she reached Hiccup. “We’ve been getting bits and pieces of memories that aren’t ours and yet are. Like how I know how to swing an axe, and Ruff’s so good with plants all of a sudden.”

“Like how I suddenly know how to sharpen an axe, and how I had a dream the first night here that’s starting to make a lot more sense now,” Hiccup added.

“And what does it mean?” Snotlout yelped; beside him, Hookfang gave him a reassuring nose as the other two dragons started preening at his wings.

“It means we don’t know yet,” Astrid said. “But it looks like we’re on the way to getting some answers now.

The yellow dragon came up to Hookfang and eased itself under his wing; in turn, Hookfang looked away from Snotlout for the first time since entering the hall and nuzzled closer to it. For a second, they rubbed gently against each other, before Hookfang went back to Snotlout. Hiccup watched as Hookfang pressed his nose into Snotlout’s chest one last time, then turned around and headed back for the door with the other two.

“Wait!” Snotlout cried, running after his dragon. “Where are you going?”

Ruffnut followed Snotlout to the door; Astrid ducked down to pull Hiccup to his feet before following her as quickly as his leg would allow. On reaching the door, their breathe began to mist in front of them, and all four began to shiver as they watched the dragons mill around in preparation for flight. First the yellow one took off, closely followed by the baby. Hookfang was last, shooting one last glance at them all. He opened his mouth, and for a second Hiccup feared this had been an elaborate ploy to eat them, before a wave of heat rushed over them from the dragon’s expelled air. Then, he too took off into the sky.

They watched the dragons fly away into the night until they were too far to make out in the dark.

Ruffnut broke the silence first. “Oh, my god,” she whispered. Then she shook her head. “Wait, how come Snotlout gets a dragon best friend and we don’t?”

By the fire, Tuffnut reached into their plant box for a raw sea beet tuber.

* * *

**somewhere in the North Atlantic between Berk and Greenland**

The fresh bruise on his cheek was smarting horribly against the frigid night air, but Gideon forced himself to ignore the pain and stay focused on the task at hand. If he did anything else wrong, that bruise would be the least of his worries.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have admitted defeat after Viggo had made an example of him during their first meeting. Perhaps he should have admitted defeat a few days after that, when one of the lieutenants had caught him trying to smuggle some extra ammunition out of the makeshift armoury, and had left him vomiting up blood for two days afterwards. Perhaps it would have been best if he’d not tried to get so close to the cages one cloudless night. He’d tried to talk his way out, that he was learning more about the dragons so that he could be of more use to Viggo, to close holes in their plans they could sail a boat through, but it fell on deaf ears.

Viggo himself had come to deal with that one himself, laughing in soft amusement as seven different men pinned Gideon’s arms and legs to the ground in excruciating positions on the outskirts of the maze of cages.

“I am a benevolent man, but I am not a stupid one,” Viggo had said, falling to one knee and grasping Gideon’s chin so hard he’d feared it might have broken. “I believe in letting people learn proactively from their mistakes, but this is really taking it too far. You are very much out of chances now, Kemp. If you so much as accidentally trip the cook up with a vat of potatoes in his arms, I will have you strung up as an example for everyone else to see. And Ryker will make it hurt. Do I make myself quite plain?

Gideon’s moans of anguish had been enough confirmation.

Two months later, and he was still tiptoeing around eggshells for his own life. Trapped on a frozen wasteland of an island, he was reduced to the laughing stock of his peers, a social pariah. No one interacted with him for fear of attracting Viggo’s wrath themselves. The men who directed his activities said as few words as possible before shoving his tools in his direction. He was humiliated, isolated, disquieted. But he had no other option. There was no way for him to leave in any case, and he wasn’t going to do anything else that was stupid when there was so much more he still had planned.

And now, here he was, with the shittiest job on the ship, stuck up in the crow’s nest to freeze to death while the other men took the prestigious jobs of maintaining their weapons and keeping the dragons in check on and below decks. He huffed, and cast his gaze out to the sky around him. _This is what I get for telling the truth?_ he reflected sourly to himself, rubbing his hands over his upper arms. _This is what I get for speaking my mind and trying to improve their shitty plans?_

Well, that settled it, really. Whenever they next made landfall, he was going to slip away in the night. Maybe with one of the beasts, if he could manage it. No one would dare pick a fight with him if there was a dragon underneath him. All he would have to do was be a little strategic about how he set up that chance. Sadistic and violent though the Grimborn brothers were - the taller one in particular - they were undoubtedly incredibly bright and would easily catch wind of his plan if he were too obvious about it. It would take careful consideration, planning. Probably a few more bodies. What did he care? How many people had he killed during the war? The people left choking on their own blood in his wake were victims of war. Life was war. All he was doing was ensuring his own longevity.

He snorted, turning around to face the back of the ship. _Well, lucky that I’ve got plenty of time up here freezing my rear end off to think about it!_ he snarked to himself, raking his eyes over the horizon. They’re going to regret humiliating me.

If he hadn’t been paying such close attention to the night sky, he may have missed it, then. As it was, the shapes in the darkness drew his attention at the corner of his vision. He took a few seconds to verify it, to make sure it was what he thought, and was rewarded by the sight of a tiny flame in the distance. Grinning, he leant over the top of the barrier to call down to the deck below. 

“Dragons! Dragons, heading this way! Dragons at eleven o’clock!”

“Dragons at eleven o’clock!” The call echoed amongst the men on deck, who sprung into instant action. Within mere seconds, the spring-powered bola launchers were ready and aimed at the sky above. It was a good thing that they were so well drilled - the dragons flew so fast that they’d be lucky to get more than one shot at them with each pass. Gideon waited anxiously as the men below finished preparing their weapons.

“Five seconds!” he called. “Three, two… now!”

The launchers below snapped open and the weighted nets spun through the air with a high-pitched whistle. It was barely light enough to make the dragons out, but there was no mistaking the thwack of a bola hitting its target, the screech of a dragon as it was ripped from the sky, and the splash as it hit the surface of the ocean a few seconds later.

“A hit!” he relayed down to them. “Dragon in the water on the port side.”

“Man the search vessel.” The Captain - the taller of the two brothers, Ryker - was as gruff and blunt as ever, but Gideon thought he detected a hint of glee in his tone. “Out into the water and find it before it drowns.”

As the men scrambled to lower the smaller craft down to the swell, Gideon heard a screech in the distance. He turned back around to the starboard side of the vessel and looked to the southern sky, searching for the other dragon. In the distance, there was a small glowing object that was too bright to be a star. And it was getting larger and larger by the second.

His hands shook a little as he grasped the cord to ring the ship’s bell. It clanged hollowly into the dark night around them.

“Fireskin!” he cried. “Fireskin off the starboard bow!”

“Battle stations! Man the rifles!” Ryker shouted from the wheel. One of his lieutenants stomped below decks to rouse the men who had been lucky enough to draw the day shift; he could almost feel the vibrations below decks as twenty men fell out of their hammocks in unison. Across the water on the other ships in the small fleet, the same orders had been given, the weapons being prepared with all available hands.

The fireskin was closing in on them now, its vicious growling becoming ever louder. Gideon caught a better glimpse of it in the splitsecond as it set its skin aflame - it was a burnt red colour with vicious horns and murder in its eyes.

“Fireskin within range!” he called.

“Prepare to fire!” Ryker’s voice roared through the night. “Now!”

The riflemen all fired within half a second of each other, the explosions from the guns briefly illuminating the deck below. A second later, he heard the bullets sizzle and explode in the fireskin’s flame. The dragon’s eyes narrowed as it flew overhead, giving the ship a wide berth. It was playing with them, Gideon realised. 

“No hit!” he cried.

“We’ll do this the old fashioned way.” Gideon turned around; on deck, Viggo Grimborn had appeared to command the attack on the dragon. “Tell the men to get their bows. Quickly, I might add. Let’s not mess this up.”

“Archers! To arms!” came the subsequent order.

There was a great clatter below as guns were hastily swapped for traditional longbow and arrow, with specially forced metal tips that were sharp enough to pierce a dragon’s hide. The fireskin wouldn’t get away from those so easily.

The dragon roared overhead as it swept past, its tail close enough to Gideon’s position that had they still been on sailing ships the mast would likely have caught fire. He ducked, but even tucked away in the box he felt the heat radiating off the beast as it passed so close.

“Archers! Prepare to loose!” In the sky, the great fireskin turned in a loop and began another approach.

“Three… two… loose!”

No one, dead or alive, could miss the almighty howl that rang out in the air in the second after the archers loosed their arrows. It flew through the air and took root in Gideon’s bones, as if the dragon had screamed human words of pain.

When he worked up the courage to stand again a few seconds later, the dragon had disappeared again into the night.

“Crow’s nest! Any more dragons in sight?” he heard. He leant over the ledge to see the Grimborn brothers waiting expectantly. Quickly, he threw his gaze around the horizon; the rest of the sky was as still as a rock.

“No.”

“Then get your arse down here now!” Ryker yelled.

By the time he reached the bottom of the ladder, Viggo had moved on to inspecting their latest catch with a quiet amusement. The remainder of the crew was still gathered on deck, panting slightly as the adrenaline of battle wore away and left them visibly exhausted, but none of them dared leave until they were directly dismissed.

“Well spotted, Mister Kemp,” Viggo smiled as he approached. “This will be a fine addition to our portfolio. I’m sure the Kaiser will be happy to…” He paused as his gaze travelled down the dragon’s length. “Well, this could be interesting. Brother, am I mistaken, or does this dragon look… female to you?”

“What makes you think that?” Ryker’s response was as gruff as ever as he stepped forward to inspect the dragon more closely. 

“Well, I would say that looks rather convincingly like an egg appearing from her right now, wouldn’t you agree?”

Gideon heard the gasp go round the crew as they jostled slightly to get a look at the dragon. Sure enough, clutched between her back legs was a slightly lubricated egg, as if it had just appeared from inside her. The dragon visibly shook with fear.

A female dragon. The first one they’d manage to capture. Well, besides the brown one- but that one was hardly a machine of war like the fireskins were.

“Well, this certainly changes things,” Viggo said, clasping his hands behind his back. “I think we can sell this one at a much higher price to our good friends back east. And the egg - well, I think we’d struggle to put a monetary price on that, wouldn’t we?” Gideon didn’t miss the way Viggo’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Take her across to one of the other ships and cage her with one of the other male fireskins, see if we can’t encourage her to produce more presents like this one.” 

Viggo himself stooped to pick the egg up, despite the secretions covering the outside of it. Gideon wasn’t surprised. Viggo wasn’t a lazy man - he had minions to do his dirty work, but when it came to things like this he was very much hands-on. He professed this to be a demonstration of his commitment to his followers and the equality he purported to spread among them. Gideon could easily see it was because Viggo would kill all of them before he let any of them touch this incredibly valuable possession. He watched with smouldering jealousy as Viggo carefully passed the egg to Ryker, who in turn made his way towards their cabin at the back of the ship. It would be well away from prying eyes in there. They all knew what would happen if they tried to enter without permission.

Viggo turned to find the remainder of the ship’s company still on deck, awaiting further orders. He rolled his eyes as if the whole thing was beneath him. “You can go now,” he said, waving his hands in dismissal. Those who had been roused from sleep on announcement of the attack silently filed back below decks; the rest, who had been on night duty anyway, gradually drifted back to their posts. 

Gideon made to follow, but as the dragon was shifted back into the smaller boat to be taken across to one of the other ships in their small fleet, he noticed a small dark mass left behind on the deck. Gideon stepped forward to inspect it, pulling it up to the light to make it out. It appeared to be a wad of fabric of some kind, wet through by the dragon’s fall into the ocean. 

“Is that tartan?” Viggo’s voice sounded over his shoulder; Gideon turned to find him looking expectantly at the fabric in his hands.

“Yes, sir, I believe it is,” he replied.

Viggo nodded thoughtfully. “Brother,” he called to Ryker, who had just appeared back on deck after locking the dragon egg away. “Come here, take a look at this.”

Ryker crossed over to them in six powerful strides, taking the fabric from Gideon’s hands without asking. “It is tartan. I wonder…”

“It would certainly be of great interest to us if it were.”

“Be a nice way to strip Strathnaver of his money, if the lad’s dead already.”

“Well, we have a way of confirming this, don’t we?” Viggo smiled. “Let’s see if our prisoner can earn his rations for the next day or so. I’m feeling generous.”

Ryker smiled knowingly, handing the fabric to his brother before striding off to head below decks to their makeshift prison. Gideon made to retreat, feeling that he would not be able to witness what was about to happen, but Viggo raised a hand. “Stay, Mister Kemp. This boy is easily intimidated, and we could use your glower on him. See if you can’t redeem yourself somewhat.”

“Yes, sir.” 

It was less than a minute before Ryker appeared on deck with their prisoner. They’d pulled him out of the water a few nights ago on their way back to Greenland, by all accounts undoubtedly saving his life. He’d been unconscious for a day or so after, and many had advocated for tipping him back over the side into the ocean for all the use he was being, Gideon chief among them. But Viggo had put his foot down. “We are not senseless murderers here, my friends,” he had said. “In any case, he may yet serve of some benefit to us.”

Viggo had saved this man’s life based on his potential usefulness. Now, the young man, shivering on the deck in the night air with nothing but a linen shirt and woollen trousers hanging off his large frame, would have to prove his worth to keep himself alive.

“You are from Scotland, no?” Viggo began. “Some of the men heard you babbling in what sounded like Gaelic while you were unconscious.”

The man nodded. “Yes, that’s correct, sir.”

“Excellent! In which case, would you mind identifying this tartan for us?”

The man took the tartan from Viggo’s hands - and nearly dropped it, so great was his shock. He fumbled the tartan with shaky hands. “Where did you get this?” he whispered.

“Oh, good! You do recognise it. To which clan is it associated?”

“Where did you get this?” the man repeated. “Did you- I mean, was there anyone else in the water when you picked me up?”

“Which clan is it bound to?” 

“Did you find anyone else? Are they okay? Did they-?”

“Answer my question, and I’ll give you one back,” Viggo said. Gideon could see his patience beginning to wear thin. “The clan. Now.”

The man chuckled. “That’s easy,” he said. “This tartan belongs to Clan Haddock. But I wouldn’t waste your time looking for them.”

“And why would that be?” Ryker asked.

“They’re all gone,” the man said, a hint of a whimper in his voice. “Most of the clan has left the Highlands, the lands are being managed by another clan. Clan Haddock barely exists any more.”

“What about their Chief? Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” the man said earnestly. “My companions, did you find anyone else in the water-?”

“No,” Ryker bit back. “Just your fat ass. We’re several days beyond that point now. If anyone else in your party was in the water, they’re long dead now, judging by the state of your boat when we pulled you from the water.”

The man’s eyes clouded with tears. “No, no, they can’t be…” His gaze fell to the deck; Gideon could see his lips moving silently - in prayer or else, he could not tell.

“Chief Haddock, the Duke of Selkirk. What of him?” Viggo pushed, ignoring his distress.

The man paused in his ministrations and looked up at them. “He’s dead, I suppose,” he said humourlessly. “He was part of my travelling party. If I’m the only one you rescued, he’s probably at the bottom of the Atlantic by now. And all the rest of them.”

Viggo turned to his brother. “Well, that makes our report to our sponsor far easier.”

“A nice sum of money he paid us, and the elements did our job for us,” Ryker smiled. 

“Well, I’m sure we can put the funds to good use. I rather fancy buying a palace in France. It’s not like they have any monarchs who need them any more, hm?” Viggo turned from his brother to the young man, who was staring expressionless into the middle distance. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted yet,” Viggo smiled, sticking a hand out. The man’s head snapped up as though he’d completely forgotten where he was. “Please forgive my earlier impoliteness; sometimes information is too pertinent to waste pleasantries on. My name is Viggo Grimborn; my brother and I are in charge of this humble venture.”

The young man hesitated for a few seconds, an indeterminable expression crossing his face before he too stuck his hand out and grasped the one offered by Viggo.

“Fi- Justin. Justin Ingerman,” he stammered. 

“Lovely to meet you, Justin,” Viggo said. He turned to his brother. “Take him back to his cell.”

Gideon watched the man - Ingerman - stumble back across the deck as Ryker shoved him forwards with a laugh for a few seconds, before making to head back to the crow’s nest. A hand on his shoulder turned him back before he made it more than a few paces.

“That was a good spot, I hear,” Viggo said, his face largely devoid of emotion. “Another good spot like that and you may redeem yourself further to me.” He stepped closer, the hand still clutched in Gideon’s shirt gripping it even tighter. “But don’t forget for a second that you are only alive by my good graces. Try me again, and you won’t live to finish your sentence. Are we clear?”

For a second, the two men silently traded across their locked gaze. Gideon hung his head in submission, though every cell in his body screamed in resistance.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered.

Viggo smiled, and let go of him with a small push. “Back to work upstairs then, Kemp. There’s a good lad.”

On his climb back up to the crow’s nest, Gideon watched through the netting as Viggo took the strip of tartan and attached it to one of the lizard-y dragons that they’d first come across in Canada. Small though they were, they could fly great distances unimpeded and had began serving functions as postmen. By the time Gideon was stood in his freezing box once more, the dragon had long since disappeared on the horizon.


	15. ...until they're before your eyes

**MAY 1908**   
**Berk**

Hiccup was adamantly a pacifist and refused to use violence even when others might deem it justified, but even he was starting to get cross with Snotlout the next morning after three uninterrupted hours of his cousin bemoaning his dragon’s absence. He clearly had forgotten that he was, in fact, the only one with a dragon to call his own, and that the rest of them were very much alone in that regard. 

Astrid had excused herself not long ago to go and chop some wood, muttering under her breath about needing to hit _something_; Ruffnut followed not long after, leaving Tuff and Hiccup to suffer together as Snotlout continued to lament Hookfang’s departure - well, to be fair to him, he’d now moved onto stories of the two of them together.

“And there was that time that Hookfang and I played this prank on Dad, and we got all that venom _everywhere_-”

Hiccup bolted back upright from where he'd lain down on the grass.

“Wait, what?”

“What?” 

The two cousins stared at each other for a minute, before Snotlout shrugged and continued.

“Anyway, Dad flipped out, said he was gonna have me build a whole new house-”

“When was this Snotlout?” Hiccup asked gently.

Snotlout frowned. “Huh. I don’t really- oh my god! It’s Hookfang!”

Hiccup snapped round to look over his shoulder; sure enough, the red dragon was flying back to them accompanied by the small blue dragon they’d first met. The yellow one was nowhere to be seen.

The three men scrambled up to standing as the dragons came in to land, Hookfang’s great wings pumping steadily as he carefully lowered himself to the ground. As soon as he was down Snotlout ran over to embrace him.

“You’re back!” Snotlout wrapped his arms around Hookfang’s snout and wiggled in glee. The dragon gave a soft moan and nestled closer to him in kind, before yelping and pulling away a little. Snotlout looked confused, but Hiccup could see the metal object lodged in one of his wings.

“Snotlout, he’s been hurt,” Hiccup said carefully, limping forward to get a closer look. Hookfang noticed him approaching and gave a small challenge, but Hiccup could tell he didn’t really mean it.

“It’s alright,” he soothed, raising his hands as he stepped closer. “I want to help you. I want to stop you hurting.”

The dragon wavered for a few more seconds, clearly a little nervous about having Hiccup come so close to him. Patiently, Hiccup stayed as still as he could, allowing Hookfang to get more comfortable with him. His waiting paid off; a few heartbeats later and the dragon’s head ducked in submission. Gently, Hiccup ran his hands over the dragon’s hide, smoothing down his neck and back until he came to the wing. 

Hookfang hissed and hopped around in pain as Hiccup neared the metal object - he could see now that it was some kind of arrowhead, though it had melted and fused to the dragon’s scales a little. 

“Hmm. It looks fairly solidly stuck on there. I wonder how we’ll get it off.”

“Think we can pry it off?” Snotlout asked, coming round to join him.

Hiccup shook his head. “I don’t want to if we can avoid it,” he said, biting his lip. “It might damage the tissue underneath, and I don’t want to cause him more pain.”

Hookfang grunted at his side, and the two men turned round to face him. Gently, Hookfang nudged them away from him and then stepped back even further.

“What are you doing?” Hiccup said quietly.

Hookfang shook his scales out, and abruptly then set himself on fire. The three men jumped back.

“What the-?” Tuff yelped, falling backwards over a nearby rock.

Hiccup watched as the metal on Hookfang’s wing slowly started to droop, and then fall to the floor. The dragon gave a sharp shriek and then all at once the flames on his skin burned off into the air. Without the haze of the flames, it was easy to see the damage done to Hookfang’s wing - luckily, it didn’t seem to have pierced the scales, just displacing a few so that they stuck up at a weird angle. Hookfang looked round and ruffled his wings, clearly testing out the scales, before settling down on the floor less distressed than before.

“You can set yourself _on fire_?” Snotlout shrieked, breaking a stunned silence. “That is so fucking cool!”

“Wait, Hookfang can set himself on fire?” Hiccup turned to find Astrid and Ruffnut approaching them with an armful of logs each.

“Apparently,” Hiccup said.

“Ugh, it’s so unfair that Snotlout gets a pet dragon but the rest of us don’t,” Ruff grumbled, dropping the logs to the floor and kicking a nearby rock to vent her feelings.

“Hookfang is not a _pet_,” Snotlout said, pulling his dragon into his chest and fussing his face. “We’re best friends.”

Hookfang snorted in what could easily be interpreted as a laugh. Hiccup chuckled, taking Astrid into a hug as she approached him.

“Is Hookfang on the same page as you there, Snot?”

“Shut up, Hiccup,” Snotlout bit back. “You’re all just jealous that I’m the only one with a dragon. It’s clearly because I’m the best.”

Hookfang clipped him over the ear with one of his claws.

“Ow!”

“Just like old times,” Tuffnut smiled. Hiccup paused and turned to looked at him where he was reclining in the grass a few feet away.

“What did you just say, Tuff?”

“It’s just like old times,” Tuff said, not opening his eyes. “You know, with you and Astrid bossing us around, and Hookfang beating Snotlout up, and me and Ruff fighting over…”

He sat upright. “Wait, where’s…?”

Tuff looked past Hiccup over his shoulder and gasped, raising an arm to point at something in the distance. “Barf and Belch!”

“What?” Hiccup spun round and sure enough, beyond the open doors a two-headed dragon was flying towards them on the horizon, carrying a small object by their legs. The twins began whooping in celebration, but as the dragon neared the island, it was if time almost froze for him. Without any warning, memories that were his and were not his flooded his brain, completely overwhelming him. In the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of Astrid shouting his name and catching him in her arms before he hit the floor.

Then, sweet oblivion took him.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again a little while later, they were all surrounding him, humans and dragons alike, all with the same worried expression on their faces.

“I’m fine guys,” he muttered, waving a hand in the air. “Stop… crowding.”

He felt Astrid slide a hand around his back and let her help him up to sitting. They were all still outside, and little time seemed to have passed. He looked to his left.

“You were only out for about five seconds,” Astrid confirmed. “Do you know what it was? Is it your leg?”

He shook his head, which he regretted almost instantly as the world swam unpleasantly around him and he felt like he might fall unconscious again. He squeezed his eyes shut and let a small gasp of pain pass his lips.

“Shh, shh, take it easy,” Astrid soothed him. One of her hands moved on instinct to cover his eyes, and he sighed in relief at the removal of one overpowering stimulus. In his brain, the memories continued to fire, one after another, a million jigsaw puzzle pieces suddenly spilled into his mind and falling into place around each other. His head ached with the memories of two lives folded into one, things that he knew and didn’t know and knew anyway all mixing in his mind. He let another whimper out as the pressure briefly became too much.

His hand flew out in search of Astrid, and she obliged, cradling him into her chest. “It’s alright,” she whispered, her lips brushing his temple. “It’s alright.”

It was several minutes before his brain settled enough to come back to the present, to where he was lying on his side against her stomach with tear streaks down down his cheeks, his hands balled into fists in front of him. Slowly, his fists loosened, and his mind began to clear enough for speech.

“I’m okay,” he promised them all. “Just give me a minute and I’ll… I’ll be able to explain.”

“However long you need,” Astrid said, running her fingers through his hair.

Finally the noise in his head settled to a soft rush, and he felt strong enough to open his eyes. The others had all come to sit in a loose circle around him, and with Astrid’s help he pushed himself to sitting before addressing them all.

“I know why we’re getting these memories that aren’t ours,” he said. 

“Why?” Ruff asked.

“Because they are ours. They’re just ours from a thousand years ago.”

He could feel Astrid freeze at his side; around the circle the others all looked as still as statues. He took a deep breath before responding.

“This place,” he said, gesturing around them. “This was our home. Not just our homeland, but our _home_. We lived here. _We_ were the Vikings of Berk. We were the ones that ended the war with the dragons and brought peace to the archipelago.”

“That’s not possible,” Snotlout muttered, even as he wrapped his arms around Hookfang’s snout.

“What other explanation is there? We’re all having the same hallucinations, to the exact same period, with experiences that overlap?”

“I mean, there could be something in the water,” Ruff interjected, but Hiccup shook his head.

“We wouldn’t be this coherent if that were the case.” Hiccup thought for an example to prove his point. “Tuff, you had a favourite weapon, right? _Before_, that is.”

Tuff thought for a few seconds, before his eyes widened. 

“Good, remember that, but don’t say it out loud,” Hiccup said. “Astrid, tell me what he nicknamed the weapon.”

Astrid’s brow furrowed for a few seconds before rising in surprise. “Macey,” she whispered. “You called it Macey. You got it off a trader’s ship, you bargained for it. Then you thought Ruffnut had stolen it but it was really…” She faded off as her memory ended.

“It got taken by those massive dragons, remember?” Ruffnut said, filling in the blank, her own incredulity playing across her face. “Along with loads of other scrap metal.”

“Hey! Macey is not scrap metal!” Tuffnut pouted.

“See? There’s no other way we could all know that,” Hiccup said, looking at each of them in turn, before coming to rest on Astrid, who was quietly looking at the ground.

“Astrid?” One of his hands came to rest on top of hers; she jumped slightly and looked round with tears in her eyes. 

“Do we not have dragons, you and I?” she asked. “Is that why these three have them but we don’t?”

He shook his head. “No, we do, they’re just-” A mental wall popped up in his head. He tried again to reach the memory of their dragons, but couldn’t reach it.

“I don’t… I can’t…” His eyes began to water again from the strain, and Astrid leaned closer to him.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t hurt yourself. I’m sure it will come back in time.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Does this mean we can eat the cow now?” Tuffnut cut in.

“The what?”

“The cow that Barf and Belch brought us.”

Hiccup leant over slightly, and sure enough, behind the two headed dragon there was a dead cow lying on the grass. 

“Huh. What do you know?”

* * *

Astrid woke the next morning with a weird feeling in her stomach, and her first conscious thought was immediately followed by a groan. Of course. Nature wouldn’t stop, even if their lives had. And she had very little to protect her clothes from her bleeding.

But a few more seconds, and she realised the pressure was coming from outside her body. She collapsed back into the bedroll. _Oh, thank fuck_.

The prodding on her stomach continued, and she started to feel irritated. “Hiccup,” she mumbled. “I’m awake, alright, give me a few minutes.”

The prodding on her stomach got even more intense. Sighing in exasperation, she sat up and opened her eyes. “Hiccup, what are-?”

The dragon hopped a few feet back from her at her outburst. The colour registered immediately as familiar, but she had to rub her eyes before the detail came into sharp focus.

“Wait, are you…?”

Stormfly gave an indignant cluck, as if to say _well, who else am I going to be_?

“Oh girl!” Astrid cried, jumping to her feet and embracing the dragon round her snout. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!”

The dragon chirped and nestled closer to Astrid, preening at her braid.

“Astrid, is that Stormfly?” Ruffnut was slowly sitting up across the fire, brushing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Yes, she’s back! I can’t believe it!”

“I’m pleased for you,” Ruff smiled. “I always thought she was less smelly than Barf and Belch.”

Astrid chuckled and hugged Stormfly closer. “I’m just so happy to see her.”

“Mmm.” Ruffnut yawned and stretched her arms out before letting them drop into her lap. “Where’s Hiccup?”

“I guess he’s gone to relieve himself,” Astrid shrugged around the dragon. “He can’t have been gone long, it’s still warm where he was sleeping.”

“Is it sunny outside? I could do with some fresh air.”

“I think so.”

The girls climbed gently to their feet before padding out to the sunlight, Stormfly between them. Outside, the world was brightly lit and warm, far warmer than they’d encountered since arriving on the island, and they found themselves stripping extra layers off until they were down to their blouses. Ruffnut sniffed at her armpit and winced.

“Ew. I stink.”

“I think we all do a little,” Astrid smiled, nosing down to check herself. “We can head down to the beach today, try and wash ourselves and our clothes. Now we’ve got the dragons to defend us, I don’t think we need to worry about the boys or anyone else bothering us.”

“Oh, that sounds so good,” Ruff moaned, stretching her arms out. “Also, that means I can make Tuff bathe too. Well, I guess you or Hiccup can make him, since you’re in charge.” She chuckled. “Huh. Speak of the devil…”

“Astrid! She’s back! You got Stormfly back!”

Astrid turned at the sound of Hiccup’s voice and smiled at him over Stormfly’s tail. He was hobbling back from the spot they’d taken to using as a latrine, and seemed ecstatic at the new addition to the island. She was opening her mouth to reply to him when Stormfly turned to inquire at the new voice that had appeared suddenly.

The dragon froze. From her jaw all the way down to her feet and the point of her tail, Stormfly stood absolutely ramrod still, gaze fixed firmly on Hiccup without so much as a flick of her head or a rustle of her wings. Astrid held her breath; she watched Hiccup waver nervously on his feet as he noticed the shift in the dragon's behaviour.

“Is everything okay, girl?” she asked gently, running one hand down Stormfly’s spine. “You remember Hiccup, don’t you? You know that he’s-”

Stormfly sprang forward and jumped straight into the air. Astrid barely had time to process it before she noticed Stormfly pulling Hiccup off the floor with her, gripped firmly in her talons.

“Astrid!” he yelped as they soared into the sky.

“Hiccup!” she and Ruff screamed in unison, chasing after them. 

"Stormfly!” Astrid called, but it was too late. Her voice blew away to nothing on the wind as the dragon carried him high in the sky and away to the west.

* * *

**the North Atlantic**

Hiccup wasn’t sure how long they’d been flying for, but he’d stopped asking the dragon to take him back a long while ago. The ocean below had been dotted with islands around Berk for the first hour, but now it had opened out into a vast expanse of nothing but gently rippling waves, like a midnight blue carpet beneath them.

“Where are we going?” he asked again. 

Unsurprisingly, the dragon didn’t respond. 

Stormfly hadn’t carried him in her talons for too long, though the way she’d managed to get him sat on her back had been a terrifying process of throwing him, without warning, slightly forwards and up so that he fell onto her spine as she flew onward. He’d initially been grateful for the change of position - it gave him more of a feeling of control over the situation - but this had not lasted too long. His hands were starting to smart from the cold, and his leg was protesting furiously from having been bent at such a weird angle for an extended period of time. He’d tried to adjust himself once a short time ago, but the movement had caused Stormfly to screech, fall a dozen feet through the air, and cluck at him reproachfully. He’d felt a little embarrassed after that. Riding a dragon, it seemed, was not a skill as well retained as riding a bike. Luckily, none of the others were around to make fun of him for it. For that, he was eternally grateful.

Immediately following that thought, at the very edge of his hearing range, a gentle rumbling began.

He tried to focus on it for a few more seconds as it steadily grew louder in his ears. It sounded like a great waterfall - _but we’re in the middle of the North Atlantic, how could there be a waterfall here?_

A few more minutes passed before the mist on the horizon registered in more clarity.

“Where are you taking me to?” he muttered, more to himself this time.

Something in the back of his memory stirred as the mist grew to encompass more of what was visible to them. Stormfly beat her wings twice and they shot up into the air a few more feet as they neared the target, the air becoming more turbulent as the mist churned up strange wind patterns that she had to navigate more delicately around. The rumble grew louder and louder in his ears until it was drilling on the inside of his skull, too persistent to be ignored.

And then the sea simply fell away and there was a great basin below them, too deep for him to make the bottom out. Stormfly banked round to the right, flying the perimeter of the hole and giving him a chance to peer out across the wide open gap where the ocean should have been. It was maybe a mile wide, with an outer rim of jagged black rocks funnelling the water down into the abyss that was beyond anything he could comprehend. Around the rocks, he could make out the rotting remains of ships that had sailed too close and been caught there. He dreaded to think what had happened to the occupants.

Stormfly gave a call, twisting her head around as best as she could to look him in the eye - instinctively, he grasped tighter around her neck. It was a wise decision; a second later, she twisted over her left wing and took off into a headfirst dive. He held his breath as they fell through the mist. There was no way of knowing how deep the hole went; all he could do was cling onto Stormfly and hope the dragon knew what she was doing.

After several seconds - or minutes, who really knew? - Stormfly’s flight levelled out just as an space opened out at the bottom of her dive. 

The cavern around them was vast - it was large enough to hold his house back home a hundred times over. The light from above illuminated two great pillars which soared into the air, supporting the walls of the tunnel they’d just fallen down, each as big as one of the great cruise liners that could cross the Atlantic in a matter of days. Below, stalagmites rose from the ground, guiding the water as it flowed to a verge and fell off into the void below, the only light a soft orange glow that appeared to have no source. 

“What is this place?” he wondered aloud.

Stormfly sniffed and altered her course slightly. Hiccup panicked for a second that she was heading straight for the rocks, but then she shifted and aimed instead for a small tunnel just above the water level that seemed just big enough to accommodate her wingspan. For a moment, as the wind whistled with them through the tunnel, Hiccup’s world became entirely dark, but he felt no fear. He clung more tightly onto Stormfly.

“I trust you,” he said aloud, his voice echoing slightly through the tunnel as he ran a gentle hand down her neck. “I trust you, wherever you’re taking me.”

Stormfly chirped happily and beat her wings twice more.

Below them, the water began to glow with luminescence.

And then the tunnel opened up again, and all he could see for miles and miles in all directions were spindly poles stretching up, far beyond where his eyes could see, illuminated in soft green and lilac and rose; dancing, intertwining patterns that scattered aimlessly up the poles, twinkling a little as they were obstructed by dragons that soared high above them. He glanced down again and gasped; Stormfly’s scales had become illuminated in striking oranges and blues, reflecting gently off the water that sat barely feet beneath them. A memory played briefly at the front of his mind, confirming his gut feeling.

“The Hidden World,” he whispered, mind ablaze with reunion and happiness and relief. “It’s still here.”

Stormfly rolled her back from head to tail. 

They crested another lip - Hiccup barely had time to make out the soft blue shapes in the water below as they neared the edge - and he saw that the columns spiralled down even further than they rose into the air. And there were more dragons around them now, too, dragons of all shapes and sizes that saw and heard Stormfly’s approach and began to roar into the air, until all he could hear were jubilant dragon calls and the beating of wings around him as Stormfly carried him onwards towards a light in the distance.

And he saw the light wasn’t one source, but thousands and millions of tiny dragons, all with their skins ablaze as they took off into the air around them. He raised a tentative hand, and one extinguished itself as it gently came to rest in the palm of his hand, nestling into his thumb before rising into the air to join the others. They had attracted quite a crowd by now - he counted at least two dozen dragons in his immediate periphery. Stormfly dipped sharply; the rest followed. They swerved between a couple of columns, which were beginning to thicken out, and Hiccup raised a hand to shield his eyes as a great light came into focus in the distance.

The trees - if that was what they even were - were a striking magenta, layers upon layers of great pink leaves that looked strong enough to hold ten of Hookfang, and they directed his focus to the source of the light, a great crystal in the distance that dangled from the ceiling and emitted a light that was somewhere between pink and gold. A warmth rose in his chest; the last time he’d seen that, Astrid had been at his side. He wished she could have been with them to see this.

It wasn’t just the ceiling, though; the whole floor was made from the glowing crystal, shards of it radiating out from a central circular slab within a gigantic cave, even larger than the one at the bottom of the waterfall and a thousand times more brilliant and beautiful. Around them, the trees blossomed with plants that he had never seen before, in all the colours of the rainbow and then some. Stormfly gently turned into a bank as they descended towards the slab, the other dragons following suit behind them. As they rounded in the turn, Hiccup noticed that their escort had blossomed in size - now at least one hundred dragons followed them directly, with more watching from the sidelines and giving the same calls.

Stormfly came to a gentle stop on the crystal slab and clucked, before dropping a wing to the ground. Taking the hint, Hiccup gently padded down to his feet, taking care to land softly with his injured calf. Around them, the other dragons also landed and formed a ring, with a space in the middle around twenty metres wide in which Hiccup stood. Stormfly nipped at his hair then quickly took off again, shooting off into the trees around them, leaving Hiccup feeling very much exposed and on show.

“Uh, hello,” he said to the crowd of dragons who was watching him eagerly. None of them moved. They just watched.

“My name’s Hiccup,” he offered gently; he didn’t miss the way that some of them tittered at his statement. But still none of them moved forward to investigate him. Instead, dozens of pairs of yellow eyes simply sat fixed on him.

“This is getting a little creepy, you guys,” he said, slowly turning in a circle to check his back. “I’m starting to-”

A familiar call came overhead, and he raised his gaze as a black dragon flew into the cave, flanked by two dragons, one of which was Stormfly. The other dragons all shifted their focus from Hiccup to the newcomer, as if he was far more interesting. The three dragons banked round the great cave twice before turning in towards the centre where the crowd was gathered.

The two escorts touched down gently on the outskirts of the circle, quickly shuffling back into the crowd to watch what was to come.

The black dragon gave three great pumps of his wings and landed with a clatter on the crystal.

He looked directly at Hiccup and froze.

“Hello,” Hiccup said again tentatively. “I-”

The dragon bounded forward and pinned Hiccup to the floor.

He was prepared for snarling, for fire, for a painful death at the hands of a dragon for reasons he didn’t understand. He was not ready for the dragon to start licking him from chest to hair, mewling like a kitten, before jumping off him in glee and prancing around.

“What the…?”

The dragon stood back and wiggled in excitement, tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth. Then he withdrew his tongue and tilted his head, a more curious expression coming onto his face. A question, Hiccup thought instinctively.

“I don’t remember you,” Hiccup smiled sadly. “But I know you’re important. You’re so important. But I can’t make my brain remember.”

A dragon from the crowd approached from behind him and nudged his right hand upwards into his peripheral vision. Hiccup stared at it for a few seconds before the links clicked in his brain.

“Oh.” His dream from his second night on Berk came back to him in drafts, the memory of a great, black dragon with piercing green eyes and no teeth that looked just like the one looking expectantly across at him. “Is this what I’m supposed to do?” he whispered.

The dragon whimpered softly and looked closer at his hand. _Go on_, he seemed to say. _This is all you._

Hiccup took a deep breath and stretched the hand out towards the dragon.

The cool heat of dragon scales pressed into his palm without hesitation.

The discomfort of returning memories overwhelmed him once again, and he fought to stay conscious as he dropped to his knees, grasping at the side of his head with his spare hand. His eyes unfocused from the floor, his hands balled into fists in his hair and in front of him. _A bola. A knife. A fish. A piece of leather string. A saddle. A wooden leg. Ostracised. Wounded. Scared. Protected. Protecting. Allied. United. Paired. Bound. _

He let out a raspy breath as the memories began to ease. 

_How could I forget? How…? How do you forget a bond like that?_

The dragon’s face appeared between his gaze and the floor, and his head snapped up. Two green eyes looked at him expectantly. Chest heaving, he managed one word.

“T-Toothless?”

The dragon smiled and crooned, pressing into his chest. _I’ve missed you, Half of Me._


	16. and I froze

_cw: mild sexual harassment comment, referring to wanting to see a women without her clothes on, explicitly without her consent [final section on Berk]_

**MAY 1908**   
**Berk**

“I don’t like it,” Astrid said for the third time that hour. Huffing the air out of her chest, she turned on her shoulder and strode back along the path she’d been pacing relentlessly for most of the afternoon.

“We know, Astrid,” Snotlout said not unkindly.

“I’m sure Hiccup’s fine, Astrid ” Ruffnut said from across the fire. She and her brother were making an attempt to dice the meat off the cow into smaller portions that would make them easier to store.

“I’m just so confused. Stormfly would never just fly off like that.” Astrid chewed her lip and began another circuit of pacing.

“It was like she was possessed,” Tuff gasped dramatically. “She saw Hiccup and was like… _aargh_!” He waved his arms around his head, narrowly missing Ruff with the knife in his hand. She shoved him away with a muttered curse, before going back to work.

“I’m just worried.”

“We all are.”

“Hiccup can take care of himself,” Snotlout pointed out. “And if what you say is true about the other memories we’ve been getting, we don’t need to worry about Stormfly or any dragon harming Hiccup. He would never lift a finger against her, and given they seem to know who he is as well, they won’t let anyone harm him.”

Astrid nodded slowly, halting her pacing. “I know. I just…”

Ruff smiled at her across the fire. “We know, Astrid. He loves you too, you know that? Any idiot with half a brain can tell that boy’s mad for you.”

“Yeah! Even _I_ know that!” Tuff said, making the rest of them snort with laughter. In Astrid’s chest, something lightened a little. Her friends were right, she knew.

It was almost dark by the time they began eating, something they’d been putting off all afternoon in the hope that Hiccup would soon be back to join them. But as their stomachs began to rumble more intensely, eventually they found themselves unable to put it off any longer. Of course, circumstance would have it that the moment Astrid raised her food to her lips, there was a great shriek outside, a call that sounded so familiar…

“Stormfly!” She sprang to her feet and belted for the door, wrenching it open to find not only her dragon but Hiccup returned safely, along with half a dozen others that crowded around him and a black dragon like puppies begging for scraps from the table. He looked up and caught her eye.

“Hiccup!”

Her legs carried her down the hill faster than she thought she could move, and she barely slowed down in time to prevent herself knocking him to the ground. In the end, he caught her in his arms, pulling her head beneath his chin for barely a second before reaching down and planting his lips solidly on her own.

“I was so worried,” she panted, pulling his forehead against her own. He leant in for another quick kiss. “I was so scared that you were gone, and we wouldn’t know where you were…”

“I’m alright,” he promised her, pulling her in for one final kiss before withdrawing. “Do you think Toothless would ever let anything happen to me?” He stepped to one side to allow her a clearer view of the black dragon, which was regarding its attenders with something akin to mild annoyance.

“Toothless…?”

Something seized inside her brain, and her whole body went stiff. 

“Astrid!” She was vaguely aware of Hiccup lowering her gently to the ground as her mind was briefly paralysed by the sheer volume of memories returning to her. _A blue skirt, a great axe handle, a child with reddish hair the same colour as Hiccup’s-_

_Hiccup_.

So many memories of Hiccup. She’d _hated_ him. Bullied him, almost. And then she’d lost to him in dragon training. Followed him to the cove. Thrown her axe at the black dragon she could just about make out in her fuzzy vision. Thrown Hiccup’s hand away as she’d climbed onto the dragon. Wrapped her arms around his waist and felt incredible as she took flight for the first time.

And then she hadn’t hated him any more. Not by a long shot.

_A kiss on the cheek in front of the whole village. A peck on the lips behind a pillar in the winter. The first time he’d taken her in his arms and pressed her against a wall and they’d…_

When she came to, her vision was filled entirely by Hiccup’s smile.

“You see?” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead. “You see how I could never not love you? It’s more than part of me, Astrid, it’s… something short of everything.”

She smiled, tears gently running down the side of her face. “I know.”

Gently, she pushed herself up to sitting, though she let herself sink back into Hiccup’s chest - not necessarily because she needed him to help hold her upright. A few seconds later though, and she thanked herself for it as her head spun anew.

“She’s fine, bud, give her some space,” she heard Hiccup say. Then his lips dropped to press lightly against her temple. “I’m surprised you didn’t go unconscious too - it’s a lot, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “My head is aching so badly right now. But I think your emotional connection is stronger, if all that’s told me anything.” Then she frowned. “Were you talking to Toothless just then?”

“Yeah.”

She sat up a little more, and blinked until the black dragon came into view. His nose was maybe two metres away from them, clearly wanting to come and check but waiting for something to tell him he could. He looked pointedly at Hiccup.

Astrid felt him shake his head. “I know, bud, but she’s fine, I promise. Give her a while, it’s a lot to process.” The dragon whined and shook his head. “Yeah, well, we have more complex brains than you do, it hurts a lot more for us.”

“Wait, what?” Astrid twisted round to look at Hiccup. “How do you know what he’s saying?”

Hiccup gulped. “I can… I can hear him. In here.” He raised a hand and tapped it against his temple.

Astrid’s jaw fell slack. “What?”

“Wait, Hiccup’s a telepath now?” Ruffnut asked. Astrid jumped; she’d forgotten the others were close by too.

“No, not exactly, I just…” Hiccup sighed and stretched his hand out towards Toothless who immediately came to it, being careful to avoid Astrid while she recovered. “After I touched his nose, this… connection just developed between the two of us. I can’t hear his thoughts passively, and I don’t think he can hear mine, but if there’s something he really wants to tell me, I just… know it. And the other way round, too. I can’t really explain it.”

“And he understands you?”

“Well, he always did a little, but I think he gets more now,” Hiccup said, moving his other arm to scratch under Toothless’ chin. From behind him, Stormfly approached, clicking inquisitively at Astrid.

“I’m okay, girl,” she smiled, sitting up on her knees to reach for the dragon. “I missed you.”

Stormfly chirped and nuzzled closer to Astrid. She felt a gap in her chest, like something was missing. Then she felt the silence in her head and turned back over her shoulder. “Hiccup, why can’t-?”

“Why can’t you hear her like I can hear him?” Hiccup smiled sadly. “I’m guessing none of the rest of you have that connection either.” The others, also attending to their dragons, shook their heads in sequence.

“I don’t know,” he said, exhaling and running his hands through his hair. “But if the memories are accurate, well… We did have the strongest relationship before. More than anyone else we met. Well, maybe except-” He frowned. “Nope. That one’s still blocked too. Damn it!”

Astrid shivered. While they’d had their reunion, the sun had reached the horizon and both the light and the temperature were beginning to plummet. “I think we should go inside,” she said. “We have food. The dragons might need to go and hunt though, I don’t think we have enough for them.”

Hiccup looked at Toothless. “He says there’s an island a short while south of here where there’s livestock for them to eat. They could be back in less than an hour.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Astrid pushed herself to her feet and embraced Stormfly round the neck. “Go and eat, girl. We’ll be here when you get back.”

Stormfly chirped and nipped the end of Astrid’s braid, before taking flight into the last streaks of daylight. The other dragons that had come with Toothless, Hookfang, and Barf and Belch followed soon after; in a few seconds only Toothless was left, nosing at Hiccup’s chest.

“It’s alright, bud,” he was promising the dragon. “We’ll be fine while you’re gone. You need to eat after all that flying.” Toothless licked him up and down once before finally acquiescing and taking to the sky after the others. 

Astrid stifled a giggle as Hiccup turned to her covered in saliva. “I was really hoping he’d forgotten that he used to do that,” he sighed, flicking his hands of the excess.

“Come on, guys, dinner will be almost cold by now,” Ruffnut said, heading back up the slope towards the hall at a jog. “Could have saved the reunion ‘till _after_ I’d eaten,” she grumbled under her breath.

Hiccup walked towards Astrid, hand outstretched. She took it gladly, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’m glad to have you back,” she said.

“I’m glad to be back,” he replied as they headed up the hill. By now, only the last of the light surrounded them, making the world appear dark in comparison to the warm glow coming from the hall. “I’ll need to check with Toothless about it, but I think there’s a good chance they can get us out of here. Fly us back to Scotland.”

Astrid’s heart leapt. “We’re going home?”

He turned to her. “You called it home,” he whispered in awe.

“Home is wherever you are,” she replied, leaning up to kiss him briefly. “But not here. This is definitely not home. Sorry, old me. This is a shithole in the middle of nowhere now.”

Hiccup laughed as they set off towards the doors again. “I definitely will not miss this place when we get back to Scotland. We’ll have beds again. And a proper fireplace. And a bathroom - god knows we all smell to high heaven.”

“Well, maybe only one bed,” Astrid said softly. She didn’t miss the way his cheeks darkened at that. “But I concur on the bathroom. And actually, on that note, I really need a wee.”

Hiccup chuckled. “Go on, I’ll save you some food.”

“Thank you,” she said, pecking him on the cheek before dropping his hand and wandering off around the side of the hall. “I’ll be back any minute."

* * *

**Dunrobin Castle, Scottish Highlands**

Malcolm was not summoned to his father’s study until just before midnight. This never bode well; the later their conversation took place, the more resolute and unchanging his father became, and he wasn’t an easy man to talk down to begin with.

The carpets of the castle seemed to swallow his footsteps whole; he made barely a sound as he padded round the corridors. The Castle slept soundly, only a few servants tending to final duties before heading to bed for the night. Each of them made a sympathetic face, almost identical to the one Iona had offered him when the attendant had brought him his father’s summons a short while ago. He knew he would be Chief one day, would inherit everything his father had, but he vowed to himself as he approached the oak door at the end of the hallway that he would never be as intimidating as his father was.

The Earl of Sutherland did not look up from his desk as Malcolm entered and crossed the room to stand before him. He carried on writing for almost a minute before finally putting the lid back on his pen and looking up at his son. Malcolm willed his fingers to not grasp at the seams of his trousers in nervousness.

“The Grimborns write that Selkirk and his merry band of travellers are dead. They have enclosed this as proof.” He carelessly threw a strip of tartan across the desk towards Malcolm, who fumbled it and dropped it to the floor. 

Malcolm’s hands shook as he bent down to retrieve the tartan, but they stopped as they processed the sight in front of him. Black tartan with white and red stripes - well, they were all red now, soaked in blood as it was. Clan Haddock’s without question, though, despite the staining. No other clan had such a stupid colour. What was wrong with green, red, and blue, like everyone else? _Mind you, it's still not as bad as that god-awful yellow the MacLeods parade around..._

He placed the tartan down on the edge of his father’s desk. “Well, with this confirmation, we can move on with our plan. We can convene the gathering for a few weeks’ time, give everyone time to get down to the capital. Have you already written to Argyll and Eldin? We can start making the rounds, gearing up for Rosebery’s nomination-”

“Malcolm.” His father’s voice cut him off abruptly. Malcolm fell silent, feet shuffling out of his father’s eyesight.

“I think we need to reconsider this.” His father pushed up from his desk and crossed to the window in three great strides. “I must confess, even when you first brought me Eldin’s plan to have Selkirk removed from the equation I was more than a little disconcerted with it. But now, with this evidence of his… _murder_.” He paused and turned to face his son. “I do not think I can continue to give my backing, our _clan’s_ backing to this plan any longer. I think it is right that we inform the King of what has been going on, of Elgin and Argyll’s conspiracy to murder and power. I have finished writing the letter; I shall post it in the morning.”

“But, Father,” Malcolm spluttered. “You can’t, we’re too far committed to this plan. And involving the King? What has he ever done for us? Why should we let him continue to dictate Scotland’s laws when he only comes here to holiday and to take our money?”

“Mind your tongue,” his father snapped, moving round to stand closer to him. “Though I may not like him or agree with his treatment of Scotland, the King is the only one who can resolve this. I have written to him, we will give our evidence, and Elgin and Argyll will be brought to justice. That’s it. We can wash our hands of it, as long we can do it delicately.”

“No, Father, we can’t,” Malcolm said earnestly.

“Yes, we can. We just need to ensure Grimborn and his men stay quiet, but that will be done easily enough, especially when Elgin and Argyll’s clans lose their money and titles.”

“No, Father, _we_ can’t,” Malcolm said again. His father raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. “We can’t wash our hands of this because…” He took a deep breath. “Because I was the one who suggested that we pay the Grimborns to kill Selkirk.”

He had never seen his father speechless before. As he watched all the emotions cross his father’s face in a matter of seconds, Malcolm came to the realisation that he would take any level of verbal abuse over the piercing silence that encapsulated the room at his words. 

“_What_?” His father’s voice was barely more than a hiss, icy cold and unforgiving. “What did you say?”

“I… I said I was the one who-”

“You stupid, stupid boy.” Fear prickled the back of Malcolm’s eyes. “What have you done?”

“You agreed!” Malcolm protested. “You agreed to it when I came back from London, you said that it was the right thing to do-”

“Did I not just say I thought it was too much?” His father’s voice began to rise in volume. “Did I once give you my complete approval to _murder_ another Chieftain in cold blood? Did you ever stop to think what the consequences might be?”

“Father, I-”

“You are lucky Selkirk is dead! You are lucky he is not alive to bear testimony to your stupid plan!”

“When else were we to have a chance like this?” Malcolm asked, stepping backwards towards the fireplace.

“We could have bribed Selkirk! Or blackmailed him. Murdering him and his clansmen was never going to be the best solution to that problem.”

“It is what it is now!” Malcolm said with more confidence than he felt. “We cannot undo what has been done, we might as well take advantage of the situation.”

His father thought on this for a few seconds. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No. That’s it. This has gone too far.” He returned back to the desk. “I will amend my letter to the King and you will learn the consequences of your actions.”

“Father, please,” Malcolm said. “This is to your advantage, this is everything we’ve ever worked for-”

“Not at this price,” his father said, looking up from where he was adjusting the letter. “Not at the price of a young man’s life.” He stopped short for a few seconds, before speaking more softly. “You said he has a sweetheart. Was she travelling with him?”

Something in Malcolm’s chest tightened. “I… I believe so-”

“Say Selkirk had got her pregnant. Say you’ve just had an innocent woman and child murdered for this little power play.” He shook his head again. “No. This has to stop.” He returned his pen to the page; in a split second, Malcolm strode across the room and snatched the letter out from underneath him.

“No.”

“Malcolm, don’t be ridiculous-”

“You’ll be killing me!” he cried. “You know the penalty for murder is death, you can’t be-”

“Son, listen to me-”

“No! I can’t let you do this,”

“Malcolm, listen, it’ll be alright-”

“It can’t be! How can it be? When my own father is signing my death warrant?”

“The king is a reasonable man, he is not disposed to letting the penalty be given out freely-”

“The king does not decide! A court does! A court of our peers, who will look at me and see a murderer!”

“Son-”

“I can’t let you do this.” Malcolm strode towards the fire, intent on burning the letter crushed in his palm.

“Malcolm, stop-”

* * *

Malcolm woke on the floor a short while later with his head ringing and his right wrist in agony. 

Gradually, he remembered how to move his eyelids and blinked them open until the desk on the other side of the room came into view. He was face down on the carpet, legs splayed out towards the fire which was quickly becoming painfully too warm against his right leg and foot. Shifting it away on instinct, his foot nudged into something solid, but also soft. 

He tried to turn his neck round and winced in pain from a sore patch of skin on his cheekbone; instead, he used his one good hand to push himself to sitting. His head spun, and for a few seconds he buried it between his knees, waiting for his vision to return as he gasped through the pain. 

The fire crackled and he looked up towards it. The remains of his father’s letter sat burning merrily away on top of a log. His father’s letter. _His father…_

He looked over to his left and saw an unconscious form prone by the fire.

“Father…”

* * *

**Berk**

As he licked his hands clean, Hiccup made a mental note to thank Barf and Belch when they got back for bringing them fresh food - if he ate any more tuna in his life, it would be too soon.

“Ruff, you’re an incredible chef,” he declared as he lay back on the bed roll. “Absolutely amazing.”

“Why, thank you, Hiccup,” she said from across the fire. “Glad to know someone appreciates my cooking.”

“I thought I’d never get to eat unsalted, fresh meat ever again,” Snotlout crowed, sucking his fingers clean too. “I never thought I’d be grateful to Barf and Belch for anything - but here we are.”

“They just brought the meat, _I’m_ the one that made it edible.” Ruffnut rolled her eyes before reaching for another chunk of meat. “God, I’m so hungry, I didn’t even realise…”

Hiccup looked over his shoulder out of habit. “Astrid’s not back yet,” he commented.

“Don’t worry too much, H,” Ruff said around a mouthful of food. “It’s harder for us. You guys can just whip it out and have a piss but there’s so much more thought that has to go into it when you’re a woman.”

“Well then.” Tuffnut choked obnoxiously on a mouthfull of food. “Who wants some more water?”

“Me, please,” Hiccup said, raising his arm; Tuffnut threw a water flask in his direction which he manged to catch one handed.

Snotlout rose to one knee sharply. “Something moved the door,” he said as Hiccup rose the flask to drink.

“It’s probably just the wind, Snot-”

“It was a man,” Snotlout cut him off abruptly. “Someone I didn’t recognise.”

“I think you’re imagining things, Snot,” Ruff chuckled.

“I did!” Snotlout rose to his feet, pointing a hand towards the door. “I saw someone, I did-” His face fell.

A click rang through the hall. The unmistakable sound of a gun’s catch being lifted. 

Hiccup’s blood ran cold.

He saw his friend’s faces pale in fear as he turned around to see what awaited them.

There were at least a dozen men slowly filing into the hall, spreading out into a half circle with their weapons raised and pointed at the group. Behind them, a tall, bald man with a thick moustache appeared into view. There was no missing the two-handed sword strapped to his back, nor the pistol in his hand.

“Welcome, friends,” Hiccup said nervously. “We don’t have much food, but you’re welcome to share what we-”

“Hand above your heads. All of you,” the man commanded, disregarding Hiccup’s attempt to diffuse the situation. 

“Okay.” Hiccup complied slowly; the others followed in quick succession. In the corner of his eye, he saw Snotlout and Ruffnut tremble a little.  
  
“That’s it,” the man smiled. “Now, on your feet. Outside.”

He stumbled to his feet as best he could, but Snotlout had to dart forward to help him stand; he shot his cousin a grateful glance before the men pulled them apart and shoved them towards the door. The cold bit into Hiccup’s skin the second he reached the outside, and he felt the hairs on his arms stand up.

“Who are you?” he asked as they were led down the hill. The clouds had come over since they’d gone in for dinner, and there was very little moonlight to illuminate their surroundings, but towards the copse off to one side of the hill, Hiccup thought he could make out a shape amongst the trees that could resemble a man…

Beside them, their captors muttered amongst themselves as they pushed them down the hill towards the copse.

“Wonder what they want with this lot?” 

“Don’t let them hear you ask questions too loudly, you know what happens if you do…”

“He’s right, you know.”

“I do wonder why they’re so important, though. I mean, they’re teenagers, for Christ’s sake…”

“Maybe the boss will let us have the girl as a present,” one of the men said snidely to his companion. “I like the look of her, even with her clothes on.” He reached a hand out towards Ruffnut.

“Go fuck yourself,” Ruffnut bit back, smacking his hand away. “Touch me again and I’ll smack the living daylights out of you.”

“Bitch,” the man snarled, raising his hand anew.

“No!” Hiccup dived in front of Ruffnut just in time to catch the man’s fist against his shoulder. He heard someone chuckle as he hit the floor.

“Have a thing for blondes, do you?”

One of their captors yanked Hiccup to his feet and twisted him ruffly to face the source of the new voice. It took a second for his eyes to focus on the man, clearly their leader from the way he held hims-

Something icy cold seized Hiccup’s heart, and he gasped in pain as the memories slammed into him without any warning. He barely managed to stay on his feet, held up by the other man as he raised his head to look at the man for confirmation.

“_You_,” he gasped. “You’re… you…”

“Oh! Apparently, I have a reputation,” the man chuckled to their captors, who gave their own short laughs. “I must do, to be realised on sight.”

Hiccup shook his head, his overwhelmed mind screaming in protest at the jerky movement. “No, I know you, you don’t understand-”

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before, to my knowledge, but it is possible I’ve forgotten-”

“You raided the archipelago for years”, he babbled, unable to stop himself. “You tortured and killed countless dragons, you fell into a volcano and lived, you were blown to pieces in an explosion-”

“I’m afraid you’re not making any sense, my friend-”

“You’re a _murderer_,” Hiccup spat, as fresh memories rolled to the front of his mind. Something flashed in the man’s eyes. “You killed people. You stole my people’s treasures. You held my partner captive and threatened to kill her to blackmail me into giving you what you wanted. You’re dishonourable. You’re everything I fought against. I’ve defeated you once. I will gladly do it again.”

“Be very careful about the next words that come of your mouth.” Viggo Grimborn’s voice had lost all its amusement. But Hiccup wasn’t scared. He drew himself up to his full height as best as he could

“You’re not a great man,” Hiccup said, holding his gaze without wavering. “You’re a coward and a liar and a thief and a murderer and we will _never_ help you-”

“Brother.”

Hiccup felt an unexpected blow against the side of his head and the world collapsed into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a massive welcome to those of you who have started reading this week! glad to know you're enjoying it so far :)
> 
> a housekeeping message from me: there is one more chapter in part 2 that will go up next Sunday (15th), and after that there will be a brief hiatus until the new year. I did attempt nanowrimo this year but didn't get quite as much done as I'd hoped and I need the time to tweak some sections of plot and sharpen the edges overall
> 
> let me know where you think I'm going with this... I'm intrigued...
> 
> love and kudos to all you wonderful people who keep coming back and reading every week. you guys are the best <3


	17. I only wish I had the strength

**MAY 1908**   
**Berk**

The back of his head was throbbing. That, above everything else, was what dominated his conscious thoughts as he came round, and it took a second for the rest of his body to remember how it worked too. He felt incredibly heavy and as though the world was randomly tilting on a pedestal beneath him, shifting his weight around too quickly for him to process and calculate how to stand up.

He took a big lungful of air, and the grass against his cheek tickled his nostrils, causing him to jerk slightly away from the ground.

“Oh, good. You’re awake. I do apologise for my brother’s actions, I was expecting him just to shut you up but sometimes he can be a little ham-handed.”

The words took a second for his brain to clock. When he felt like the world had slowed down its spin enough, he took another deep breath, then pushed himself up off the floor onto his knees to take in his surroundings. Very little seemed to have changed; they were still outside, on the hill, at night, and everyone was roughly where he remembered them being before he went down.

“Didn’t need to hit me at all, though, did you?” he snarked, mostly down at the ground as his shifting vision finally came to a halt.

“Oh, let’s not get off on the wrong foot, shall we?” Viggo said somewhere above him. “We could be friends, you and I.”

“I doubt it.”

He heard Viggo give a great huff, before he felt himself be wrenched to his feet. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of a thick moustache on an otherwise hairless head; another wave of memories flooded his brain, making his knees bend slightly, and he staggered.

“Ryker; it’s been a while,” he said, grunting slightly as Ryker twisted his wrists behind his back, keeping him upright - albeit bent slightly at an angle.

“Shut up,” Ryker replied.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Viggo’s eyes flashed with a familiar silent recognition that made a shiver run down Hiccup’s spine. “But I do believe that _this time_ we understand each other a lot better, don’t you?”

Hiccup struggled fruitlessly against Ryker’s grip. “What do you want with us? How did even you find us?”

“Interestingly, this time I’m not after Hiccup - the man, that is. This time I’m fulfilling a request from a sponsor to relieve Hugh Haddock, the Duke of Selkirk of his title. And his life, as it happens.”

Something froze in Hiccup’s chest.

“I left the title behind,” he protested immediately. “We were sailing off to a foreign country, I had no intention of returning and claiming my seat, tell your sponsor-”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Viggo waved his hand dismissively. “I’m afraid you can’t talk your way out of this one. The only reason that a bullet hasn’t already gone between your eyebrows is that we need something from you before we move on.”

“And what might that be?”

“Your dragon - Toothless, wasn’t it? Such an adorable name. Anyway, I digress. We need the alpha dragon, and you’re going to bring him to us.”

“What?” Snotlout’s jaw dropped across the clearing.

Hiccup winced as he heard his cousin get smacked by one of the guards. “Be _quiet_.”

“Yes, young Jorgenson, we need the dragon.”

“Why?”

Viggo laughed. “Oh, Hiccup. Do I really need to explain this to you?”

“You know that’s a bad trope, right?” Hiccup struggled against Ryker again, before yelping as the dragon trapper twisted his wrists harder. “The villain explaining his plan to the hero before his timely demise.”

“You’re not the hero this time, Hiccup,” Viggo said. “You’re going to be dead before the sun comes up.”

“Good luck with that.”

Viggo stopped smiling. “You’ve not changed a bit, have you? Still snarking in the face of your imminent demise?”

“And yet you never managed to get me, on any of those occasions, did you?” The corners of Hiccup’s mouth twitched, defiant. “All those years and you barely made an impression on Berk. Or our dragons. What did you achieve, in all that time?”

“Sit. Down.”

Hiccup was prepared for Ryker to shove him to his knees, and managed to mostly conceal his grunt of pain as he fell heavily onto his bad leg, the bare skin smearing into the dirt beneath him.

“A thousand years ago, the world was not ready for us.” Viggo stepped closer to Hiccup. “Our logic and our methods were sound, but the technology was far below what we required to do our work most efficiently. In hindsight, our efforts were doomed from the start.

“We came back to this world nearly forty years ago, and initially we did not know what our purpose was. We lived all around Europe, the two of us growing up with barely anything to call our own except the clothes on our back and the memories of who we had been before.”

Hiccup gasped. “You _knew_? You knew about our lives before-?”

“Of course we did. When we were young, we thought they were stories we’d been told by someone we’d long since forgotten, but as we grew older we realised the memories for what they were. And we knew our purpose. That’s when we sailed for Canada.

“And we found them.” Viggo smiled and looked up wistfully into the sky. “We found the dragons beginning to emerge again, spreading slowly over the northern hemisphere. And we found others who knew about them too, across the ocean on our travels. Confederates, who had become disenfranchised with their country after their decision to free the slaves, looking for something else to beat into submission. Who needs people at your feet when you have the most powerful species on the planet at your beck and call?”

“You’re despicable.”

“The confederates we found, they make reasonably competent lieutenants,” Viggo continued, ignoring Hiccup’s comment. “And they share our vision, too.”

“And what’s that, this time?”

“This time, it’s profit.”

“We grew up with nothing,” Ryker said from behind him, twisting his wrists a little for emphasis. “We stole to survive, slept in doorways and under bridges. Nobody helped us. Nobody even looked at us, except to spit in our direction and scream at us to go somewhere else.”

“But no one tells us where to go now,” Viggo smiled. “When we go to the leaders of Europe, they welcome us with open arms. They know of our ventures and they want a part of it, practically beg us to help them. They want their own dragons. They’d pay any price to have them.”

“Who needs to waste money on guns when you’ve got a fire-breathing demon doing your bidding?” Ryker laughed. 

“And we are in a position to provide.”

“The tensions in Europe…” The dots connected in Hiccup’s brain.

“I see you’ve not lost your sharpness,” Viggo noted, seemingly almost impressed with him. “Yes. War is coming. It almost doesn’t matter that we’re involved; they’ll do it themselves within a few years anyway. But as it is, we can speed things along, and make a profit off it to boot.”

“You’re talking about starting a continental war,” Hiccup whispered, completely aghast. “You’re talking about the lives of millions of people…”

“What do they matter to us?” Ryker said from above him. “What have they ever done to help us?”

“That’s just the way of the world, Hiccup,” Viggo said, dropping to his knees in front of him. “People live, people die. All things end.”

“But war-”

“War is man’s natural state. You inbred Scottish bastards should know that better than anyone.”

Hiccup tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at Viggo. “Why am I still alive, Viggo? Not that I’m encouraging you to kill us faster, but why the monologue?”

“I thought I’d give you the professional courtesy of explaining the reasons I need you to do these things for me. We do go back quite a way, you know.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want your dragon, Hiccup. I want the alpha.”

“No,” he whispered, trying to move his hands round before being stopped again by Ryker. “No, you can’t-”

“I can, and I will,” Viggo said firmly. “If you’re back in the same way, then so are your dragons. We have other examples of the same dragons coming back.”

“No...”

“Where you are, soon too will your dragon be. And where he is, the rest will follow, and our profits increase a thousand times over.”

“No, you don’t understand-” 

Ryker bent down with a length of rope from his belt and started binding Hiccup’s wrists together. “Hold _still_,” he said gruffly. “Wriggly bastard…”

“I believe I do,” Viggo smiled over his brother’s muttering. “All we need to do is wait for Toothless to come back with his hordes, and we will never need to worry about money again.

“Dragons are peaceful creatures, you’re planning on turning them into war machines-”

“What do I care?” Viggo smiled. “It’s been a thousand years, Hiccup, but it will be all the more satisfying to _finally_ have my victory.”

“Go to hell,” Hiccup snarled, wrestling against his restraints again and feeling the skin start to chafe against the rope. “I will _never_ give him up. If you should know anything from before, it’s that. And he’ll never let you hurt his people.”

“I see,” Viggo said thoughtfully, before slapping his legs with his hands and pushing to his feet. “Well, I didn’t want it to come to this, but we will have to use some more violent methods to make you co-operate.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Something began to sit uneasily in Hiccup's stomach

“Well, you see,” Viggo smiled. “Our sponsor gave us a description of you - which you fit, obviously - but he also described another member of your party. Female, blonde hair, fiesty temper. Sounds exactly like the kind of woman you’d go for, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No,” Hiccup whispered, twisting around to see where they held Astrid. They must have found her, dragged her up to use her as collateral to make him comply-

But Astrid didn’t appear. Instead, one of the men that was watching the others pulled Ruffnut to her feet by the scruff of her collar. Viggo watched with a smile as he pulled a dagger from his waist belt.

“No,” Hiccup said louder. Viggo’s memory was clearly lacking an important detail. Or maybe he just didn’t care that it was Ruff rather than Astrid. “No, no, you don’t understand, she’s not who you think-”

“She fits the description,” Viggo said. “And our source assures us his knowledge is sound. So-” Hiccup watched as Ruffnut was thrown at Viggo’s feet, and the trapper bent down to hold the knife to her neck. “As I said, we only really need you to bring the dragons into our command. And while I don’t really want to ruin this lovely warm jacket with this beautiful young woman’s blood… well, if it’s the only way to prove how serious we are about this…”

Ruffnut struggled in Viggo’s grip to no avail. “Hiccup,” she managed to gasp around his hand. “Don’t let him hurt the dragons…”

“Give us your word, Hiccup. You’re an honourable man. Give me your word that you will help us find Toothless, or she dies. You have five seconds.”

Ruffnut cried out as Viggo’s other hand seized around her wrist, twisting the skin until it bruised.

In his head, Hiccup reached out across the waves to Toothless, wherever he was, and felt their connection strengthen.

_Please… help us…_ he begged. _Please…_

He felt Toothless’ call to action in his chest, though there was no way he could hear it in actuality. He closed his eyes and hoped that they would get there fast enough to save them.

* * *

**Dunrobin Castle, Scottish Highlands**

A pull in Iona’s gut woke her instantly. 

A glance at the clock on the mantelpiece confirmed it was just after a half past midnight. She groaned and reached out with her left arm, seeking her husband’s warmth to ease her back to sleep, but found only cold, unruffled sheets. Her heart rate began to increase, and she sat straight up in bed to confirm his absence before swinging her legs over the side and reaching down for her slippers.

Iona had always worried for her husband, even though she wasn’t always in the know about what she was worrying about. He and his father had always held high ambitions, even for a Seventh clan - it was part of the reason her own father had been so keen on her marrying Malcolm in the first place. She’d fretted and worried at first, the stories of loveless, political marriages a source of frequent conversation among Chieftainesses and their daughters. Robert Sutherland was known to be an abrasive, hot-tempered man; his son compensated for it with quiet confidence and snide comments under his breath when no one was listening. She’d lain awake, mind spinning a million scenarios of dread and discomfort - but that line of thought had ground to a halt the moment she’d first laid eyes on him. Tall, dark, handsome - and a gentlemen to boot. He’d swept her off her feet that first night in Edinburgh at a dinner of several Chiefs and their children - literally, when he’d taken her in his arms and pressed her against a wall as his leg pushed between her thighs at her insistence. They were engaged for less than a month, but she’d still managed to fall head over heels for him before she joined him at the altar. 

He hadn’t changed, per se, in the years they’d since they’d promised themselves to each other, but she had learned to make the connections between his moods and their latest goings-on, and gradually the time they spent together in their marriage bed had decreased as his business elsewhere became a greater priority. She wasn’t so distraught by this - there were plenty of other things to busy herself with - but she would be lying if she didn’t admit that it was likely the reason she had not yet missed a single one of her courses since their engagement. _Well, until now, of course._

Her feet carried her without instruction through the castle at a brisk pace. She’d lived here for nearly four years now as Lady Strathnaver, and yet she still felt intimidated by its sheer size. Finlaggen Castle, her father’s seat, would have fit inside it at least four times over with room to spare. One day, she would be Chieftainess of Clan Sutherland, and it would be her household to command - but for now she still felt as a foreigner, a lone MacDonald clanswoman alone among strangers.

Maybe, when she was Chieftainess, maybe then she’d know what her husband got up to with his father behind their doors. Maybe then she’d be allowed to join the meetings that seemed akin to war councils, as Clan Sutherland’s best and brightest gathered well into the evening preparing for… something. Maybe then. 

The door to the Chief’s study was slightly ajar as she approached, spilling soft firelight into the otherwise dark hallway along with soft sobs.

“_Malcolm_?” she called as she drew up to the door. “_Malcolm, are you alright_?”

The door was wrenched open suddenly to reveal her husband, a fresh bruise swelling on his cheekbone and cradling his right wrist in his left hand. She gasped and brought a hand to her chest.

“_**Dhuine, dè thachair dhut**_?” she whispered, moving fowards to take his wrist, but he snatched it away before she could touch him.

“_What have I done_?” he asked, voice shaking. “_What have I done_?”

“_Husband, what are you talking about_?” she asked. She tried to step forward into the room, but he blocked her access with his body.

“_I can’t let you see_,” he said, eyes piercing on her skin. “_Please, just go get Alistair_.”

Iona froze. “_What do you need the chaplain for at this hour_?” 

“_My love, please_-”

“_Let me in_-”

She slipped under his arms and into the room. Immediately, the smell of blood hit her, and she wobbled on her feet. 

“Iona!” Malcolm caught her around her middle, and lowered her to her knees on the floor, but her gaze never left the body lying in front of the fireplace.

“_What happened_?” she whispered. “_Husband, what happened here_?”

“_We were fighting_,” Malcolm said, burying his face in her hair. She could feel him trying to contain his sobs. “_We were fighting about a stupid, stupid mistake I made, and I tried to- to burn the letter, but he tried to stop me, and- and I don’t really remember what happened after that but then I woke up and he was-_” The arms around her stomach tightened as Malcolm began to shake.

“_My love-_” Iona turned round so that she could pull him into her chest, fingers soothing down his back as he cried himself dry onto her nightgown. “_Shhh. Shhh._” A few tears rolled down her cheeks and onto his hair.

It was a long time before either of them were able to talk again.

“_It was an accident_.” Malcolm’s voice was hoarse.

“_I believe you_,” she said.

“_It was an accident, I swear, I could never…_” His face distorted in anguish and he pushed it back into her chest.

They sat there, rocking backwards and forwards on the floor, until the seconds ticked away into what felt like eternity.

* * *

**Berk**

Even sat concealed in the bushes, Astrid didn’t miss a word of what their attackers were saying.

She’d been on her way back from down at the shore line - _thanks, Mother Nature, really appreciate it_ she’d muttered under her breath as she tried to wash out what she could of the blood - when she’d seen the ships that didn’t belong to them moored alongside the island. Her first thought was euphoric, that someone had found them, was coming to rescue them off the island. Giddy on hope, she’d stumbled back up to the hall - only to dart back into the shadows in the nick of time just as the invaders had dragged her friends out of their shelter and into the night. 

The memories had hit her not long after. Her lips had curled in a snarl and her hands had tightened into fists as her recollections of the Grimborns resurfaced. _The bastards_. But they’d defeated them once before. They could do it again. Gritting her teeth, she’d taken off at a run towards the hall, mind formulating a battle plan as she went.

And now here she was, hidden behind a tree and hoping no one looked her way for too long. Luckily, she’d manage to sneak back into the hall and grab the axe without anyone noticing, and now she was waiting for an opportunity to put it to good use. As she turned the handle round and round in her grip, her fingertips brushed against the grain of the wood; each touch of the ridges and troughs in the pinewood bringing back a little bit more of her knowledge on how to use it efficiently. She hoped she wouldn’t have to. The dragons would return eventually, and if she knew one thing about dragons, it was that they loved Hiccup and would stop at nothing to make sure he was safe. If she worked it out right, she could put herself to good use just as the dragons arrived. 

It would be a difficult judgement of time, her intervention. Move too late, and she risked Hiccup or some of the others being hurt, or worse. Move too soon, and she might put herself in danger before the dragons got back.

For a couple of minutes she sat and waited, watching the scene before her nervously as she tried to work out when best to intervene. At first, she was able to sit on her hands, even as Ryker held Hiccup firmly in his grasp. She smiled at Hiccup’s defiance. _That’s the spirit, babe_, she smiled to herself. Then her decision was abruptly made for her when Ruffnut was dragged out of line to kneel in front of Viggo. Her friend was in immediate danger. She couldn’t sit around and watch any longer. All she could do was pray the dragons weren’t too far away.

The first man went down with a swift blow to the back of his head with the flat of the axe blade; his partner was also unconscious less than a second later. She’d taken down a third with the butt of the handle and was making advances on a fourth when she heard the shot go off. 

Briefly, she panicked, searching for a gunshot wound on her torso, but found nothing to worry about. Looking up, she saw the man opposite her also frantically checking himself for injury. A throat cleared to her left; she turned and found that Ryker had fired his pistol into the air. A warning shot, then. Nobody hurt. _For now_.

“Oh, Miss Hofferson.” Viggo Grimborn smiled, releasing Ruff slightly. “How nice of you to join us. I was getting worried that you hadn’t made it this time around, but I see now I was worrying far too prematurely. Would you care to join us?” He gestured with his knife to indicate for her to join them.

“Go fuck yourself,” she hissed as four hunters stepped forward to seize her weapon, before pinning her arms to her side and marching her closer to Viggo. She struggled and swore under her breath in Swedish the whole way.

“Astrid, what are you doing?” Hiccup whined as she neared him. From a distance, she hadn’t been able to make much out of his form, but closer up she could see the bruise beginning to form on the side of his face and the redness on his wrists where he’d been struggling against his restraints. Her heart sank at the state of him.

“Helping,” she said simply, desperately trying to keep her tone neutral so as to not give anything away.

“Why would you put yourself in danger?” he asked, straining to get closer to her before being held back by Ryker. “You were safe, you didn’t need to-”

“They were going to hurt Ruff,” she said.

“And now they’ve got you too.” She couldn’t miss the tears beginning to pool in his eyes; one trickled down his unbruised cheek. “Why would you-?”

“_**Lita på mig, älskling**_,” she whispered, cutting him off. His eyes flashed with understanding and he stiffened as he translated the Swedish, his lips moving silently with the English words. _Trust me, darling._

“If you two are quite finished with the whole _staring into each others’ eyes_ thing- really, it's soppy, even for the two of you,” Viggo said loudly, as if the whole event were boring him.

Astrid looked away from Hiccup and fixed a scowl on Viggo’s face. “Oh, I’m sorry, were we taking time away from your evil monologue? Would you mind starting it over? Your men were tittering next to where I was waiting and I missed most of it.”

Viggo chuckled. “I see you haven’t changed at all. Sadly, I must offer my sincere apologies; we’re on a bit of a schedule here.”

“Of course, I understand. Deadlines to meet for your shipments. Being an arsehole can’t pay well on its own.”

“Thank you for the theatrics, Astrid, but I’m afraid we need to get on with the business at hand. And thanks to your arrival, I now have even more leverage over young Hiccup here.” Viggo crossed over to her in two short strides and pressed a knife to her throat. In turn, the men who had previously been restricting Astrid went over to pull a limp Ruff from the ground, but to Astrid’s relief she could see that her friend was still conscious and breathing, and with a murderous expression on her face to boot.

“Again, Hiccup,” Viggo said loudly as Astrid struggled against his grip. The metal of the blade was surprisingly warm against her throat. “Summon your dragon and his brethren, or you watch your friends die.”

“You can’t make me choose,” Hiccup whispered, pulling against Ryker anew. “You don’t understand-”

“Hiccup...”

“Viggo, I can’t, you can’t-”

“Quickly, Hiccup. My patience is wearing thin.”

“Please, you don’t get it, it’s not possible-”

“It’s perfectly possible-”

A great shriek sounded overhead and drowned the rest of Viggo’s sentence out. A shriek that sounded like it had come from Toothless.

Across from Astrid, Hiccup’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile.

She felt Viggo relax a little. “There we go,” he said. “Was that so hard?” 

Astrid noticed that the knife didn’t leave her throat. Gently, she tilted her head upwards until she could see the underside of Viggo’s face.

“They’re not here for you,” she rasped. Viggo’s wrist flexed against her slightly as he looked down at her inquisitively. “Not in the way you want them to be. You’re making a big mistake.”

Viggo leant down until his lips brushed her ear. Astrid recoiled instinctively from his touch.

“I don’t make mistakes,” he said softly. “As you’re about to find out.”

* * *

He had known nothing but biting frost, for months on end. Week after week spent fighting to stay warm enough so that the cold wouldn’t take him in his sleep, where even the slightest abatement of the wind or some sporadic rays of sunshine was a gift sent from God. Even the spring months had been freezing, the only difference being that their days were spent in blinding sunlight rather than endless darkness.

Under the burning heat of dragon fire, Gideon Kemp would have given anything to feel the biting cold of snow against his bare skin again.

They’d seen the dragons in the sky to the north east, a happenstance as they continued their journey for Inverness. Up in the crow’s nest, Gideon had rung the great bell, alerting them all to the prize that awaited them on the island ahead. Below them, the Grimborns gave new orders, their euphoria evident in their voices.

The island was shrouded in darkness as they approached, the last vestiges of sunlight almost gone entirely from the western horizon. It gave them the advantage as they approached in silence. The beasts could not have seen them coming, were they based on the land.

It wasn’t dragons they hunted, though. He’d heard Viggo and Ryker muttering below him, where they thought they’d been out of ear shot. The island was special to them. They were looking for a person who lived there. 

_What kind of dumb fucking name is **Hiccup**?_ he’d wondered to himself as they’d pulled up to the shore.

The Grimborns had chosen a dozen fighters from among them, with the rest left to guard their precious cargo. It had been a calm, still night, and guards were quickly dropped without the Grimborns or their lieutenants around to breathe down people’s necks. 

Even if they had been paying closer attention, it wouldn’t have saved them.

The dragons had appeared without warning and their scouts and gunners were overwhelmed in a matter of seconds. He had been left helpless, weapon falling loosely from his grip as he stood and watched from his guard posting on the beach, watched the dragon fire rain hell on the men still on the ships. The beasts they already had contained and beaten into submission turned freely on their captors. Cages broken and melted, their precious cargo took to the sky anew, before returning to rain destruction on them in turn. The screams from the men around him were beyond description. Gideon alone managed to escape the carnage, stumbling up the hill in a desperate attempt to warn Viggo and Ryker and the others of the devastation that was about to descend on them.

His breath came in pants. His boots slipped on the damp mud, and he fell onto his face, gun spiralling out of his grip. He didn’t waste time looking for it, instead pulling himself back to his feet and hurrying on.

He reached the crest of the hill and took in the scene in the space of a few heartbeats. Two young men were off to one side, guarded by about half of the hunters; the remainder, including both the brothers, were circled around three others - two women and a man. Viggo had one of the women with a knife to her throat; Ryker had the man bound and bent at an awkward angle as Viggo hissed at him.

This? This was the man they’d spent weeks trawling the Atlantic for? A skinny boy barely out of his cradle with no weapons and a bunch of fucking _teenagers_ as his back up? _This_ was the man they’d been told to treat with extreme caution by the brothers’ contact? How the _hell_ was he even alive, if Ingerman’s story was true? 

In one motion, the entire clearing turned to look at Gideon’s intrusion; a direct violation of Viggo’s orders to keep away no matter what. And all the men present knew what that meant.

“What is it, Kemp?” Viggo spat. “Or have you finally gone insane?”

Gideon barely had time to say “the dragons” before all hell broke loose.

Overhead, a great call rang through the night as at least half a dozen dragons dropped to the floor in unison. The clever men among them dropped their weapons and ran for cover; in the chaos, the two prisoners they’d had bound on the floor jumped to their feet and called a nearby dragon over to them. Gideon watched, astounded, as the dragon voluntarily darted forward to use one of its claws to saw through their restraints, a move that looked so polished there was no way they hadn’t practiced it beforehand. Free of the ropes, the men sprang to their feet, calling two more dragons over in order for them to climb onto their backs and take to the sky. The whole process lasted maybe ten seconds as Gideon watched rooted to the spot, astounded.

In the centre of the clearing, a great black dragon landed and faced off to Viggo. With its back to him, Gideon couldn’t see its front; just the way it arched its back and spread its wings, and the way Viggo’s face paled in response. A dragon flew closely by overhead and Gideon ducked for cover; when he emerged again, both of the Grimborn brothers were on the floor. Unconscious or dead, he didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to hang around to find out.

He scrambled to his feet and took off up the hill, fleeing the battle behind him as quickly as his feet would allow. His heart thrummed in his throat and his hands shook from the adrenaline, but he kept running up and away. Running to safety. To anywhere that wasn’t the battle. He almost made it, too. 

Metres from the great stone walls of the hall, a dragon landed on the floor in front of him.

It took him a few seconds to place the sense of familiarity that came with the sight of this dragon, eyeing him up with murder written across its face. Then it came to him. It was the same red fireskin that had attacked their boat a few nights ago when they’d shot that yellow one down and found its egg. The one that had let out an almighty screech that had pierced Gideon’s eardrums as an archer’s arrowhead had made contact with its wing, the noise reverberating around his whole body for hours afterwards. He could see the damage done, the scales that were knocked out of place on its right wing. But the dragon was still alive. And it seemed to remember exactly who Gideon was.

There was nowhere he could go that the dragon wouldn’t get to first. Down the hill, the other dragons continued to rain carnage on what remained of their expedition teams, directed by the black dragon which was being ridden by the skinny boy. No one saw Gideon. No one came to his aid.

Gideon saw the dragon’s mouth open and a white fire begin there. Then there was a second of intense pain.

Then there was nothing.

**~ end of part 2 ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand that's the end of part 2! 
> 
> my initial outline/plan had me wrapping the _whole work_ up at ~ 63,000 words... I'm just over two-thirds of the way through and I'm nearly at 90,000 _published_, let alone the remaining chapters in part 3!
> 
> thank you all for your lovely comments and for coming back and reading every week. you've been absolutely wonderful and I'm so grateful for each and every one of you ❤️
> 
> just a reminder that there will now be a short hiatus until January while I finalise the outline for part 3, and get some buffer written (my final term of uni starts in January and I am _not_ prepared for it lmao)
> 
> in the meantime, if you want to chat with me about this work, or anything at all really, I'm on tumblr and discord (@mintyfreshness on both), come say hey!
> 
> with love and best wishes to you all for the new year,
> 
> minty xoxo


	18. reunions

**~ part iii ~**

**MAY 1908**   
**Berk**

It was over before he really understood what was happening.

The man’s arrival over the crest of the hill had bought him a crucial few seconds of thinking time, another few seconds working his wrists free of the ties that bound them, but just as he felt the rope begin to fray behind his back the cavalry arrived.

Dragons he did not recognise appeared from nowhere and everywhere, their calls echoing into the night sky as they dived into action. In his head, Hiccup heard Toothless’ call.

_Close now, Half of Me. Dragons that are with you, friendly. They will help you._

There was a whoosh and a cry behind him; he whipped around in time to see Ryker soaring into the darkness in the claws of a Nadder. At his side, Astrid quickly pushed Viggo off her, seizing a knife that had clattered from Ryker’s belt off the floor and using the butt of it to knock her captor into unconsciousness. Her head shot round, searching for him; he saw a fear mixed with a grim determination in her eyes.

A raised eyebrow; a quick nod - that was all they needed before they climbed the nearest dragons and set into the air.

After that, everything he remembered was little more than a blur.

* * *

His chest heaved with exertion as he finally came to a stop looking out over the scene before them. The men they’d knocked unconscious lay across the ground, breath rising shallowly, while the dragons that had come to their aid prowled around ensuring that no more attackers still posed a risk to them. A brief bit of mental arithmetic raised a soft gasp as he realised that there had been at least half a dozen more men surrounding them before the chaos broke out. He tried not to think about what had happened to those who were no longer present.

Toothless nudged into his side, seeking reassurance, and Hiccup dropped to one knee to embrace the dragon’s head. Other than the inquisitive noises of the remaining dragons patrolling the hill and the soft wind, for a few seconds there was no noise. None of them spoke. None of them could find the words to do so.

Astrid broke the silence first, standing up from where she’d been making sure the last man she’d knocked down was actually unconscious.

“Well,” she said, sweeping her hair behind her ears with a trembling hand. “That was good timing.”

Finally, Hiccup’s reverie broke. “Astrid!” He sprinted across to where she was standing and swept her up into a kiss without hesitation. “Oh god, Astrid, are you okay?”

“I’m- I’m fine- Hiccup-” she managed to say around his frantic kissing. “Hiccup-” She shoved him off her a little, and he smiled apologetically as she visibly tried to get her breath back. Then he noticed the dark red stains spreading across her stomach and legs, seeping through the dress she was wearing. 

His heart stopped short for a full second.

“Astrid.” Hiccup’s voice caught in his throat. Inside his chest, he felt panic rising. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” She dropped her hands from her stomach and looked down at her skirts. “Oh. That. That’s just my fucking period,” she scowled, tossing the axe from one hand to another. “That’s why I took so long getting back for dinner, because I had to find some moss and water to clean myself up with, and by the time I got back up to the hall you were all gone. I could see they’d captured you, but they hadn’t found the axe, so I grabbed it and waited in the bushes until my moment.”

“Why did you do that?” he whispered, pulling her close again without a care for the blood on her clothes. “Why did you put yourself in danger?”

“I knew the dragons were coming back, it was just going to be a case of timing my distraction. I didn’t realise we’d have so much help, though,” she said, gesturing around the clearing to the fifty or so dragons that were still checking for any more trappers.

“Me neither,” Hiccup said. He looked at Toothless over the top of her head. The dragon appeared to shrug. _Not mine._

“Toothless didn’t bring them with him,” Hiccup relayed.

“Then where did they come from?”

They stood in silence for a few seconds before Astrid gasped. “The others!”

Hiccup’s head whipped around; he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the other three all standing and apparently uninjured, attended to by their dragons. Carefully, minding Hiccup’s leg, which he was beginning to feel pain from again as the adrenaline emptied out of his system, they made their way down the hill flanked by Stormfly, Toothless and a couple of other dragons.

“Are you guys all alright?” he asked as they approached.

Ruffnut shrugged and then hissed, clasping her wrist loosely. “Physically fine, apart from this wrist of mine. What a dick that guy was.” She fell to sit cross-legged on the floor in a huff.

“What did they want with us?” Snotlout asked as he tore a strip of his shirt loose, before kneeling to carefully wrap it around Ruff’s bruised wrist. “Why were they threatening us?”

Hiccup shot an apologetic glance at Ruffnut, who made a dismissive gesture. “He said something about a sponsor… But they’re arms dealers. They’re rounding up as many dragons as they can and selling them to people as war weapons.”

“That’s sick,” Astrid whispered. “How could they?”

Hiccup shrugged, and allowed her to run a hand over his back. “They said something about Toothless.”

“You mean, about him being the alpha dragon?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup said, not bothering to question when Snotlout had had his memories returned to him too. “Except it’s not the same as it was before. The dragons’ structure is less… hierarchical now. They chose him to lead them this time, it wasn’t a biology thing. And he’d never consciously lead them into danger.”

“So they wanted him because they thought they could control the rest of them using him?” Astrid asked.

“I guess so,” Hiccup said. “But what’s concerning me is how he knew so much about it. I thought this knowledge was largely confined to our Clan, I didn’t think anyone else knew about it beyond the stories that make the rounds - and it’s not like they’re accurate, is it?”

“You think his sponsor might have that information?” Ruffnut asked, gently flexing her bad wrist. Beside her, Tuffnut dropped to the floor, still rendered silent from the engagement. Astrid immediately knelt and began murmuring reassurance to him, one hand rubbing between his shoulder blades.

“I guess so,” Hiccup said. “I can’t see where else he could have got it from. But there’s only a handful of people who even knew that much about the stories, and most of them are halfway around the world by now. I don’t-”

A twig snapped up the hill, and the group turned in unison, the dragons immediately taking a protective stance in front of their humans. For a second, the whole field fell silent once more as they anticipated the worse - more hunters for them to have to fight off.

But a hunter didn’t come into view. Instead, a large brown dragon crested the top of the hill, and began wiggling with excitement at the sight of them all. A memory flashed across Hiccup’s mind.

“Wait, is that-?” he began.

“Meatlug?” Astrid finished. They shared an incredulous look, the same thought crossing their minds.

“Please,” Hiccup whispered to himself as he started striding up the hill as fast as his wound - aching considerably more now the excitement of battle had worn off - would permit. “Please, please, please-”

“Hiccup?”

A man had appeared at the top of the hill. Hiccup found himself rooted to the spot.

Silence fell across the village. Then-

“Fishlegs?” Hiccup’s voice was barely more than a whisper; his eyes already watering.

“Oh my god,” Fishlegs stuttered. “You’re alive, you’re all okay-”

“_Fishlegs_!” they chorused. As one, the castaways began running as fast as their legs could carry them across towards their returned friend. 

Astrid reached him first, closely followed by Snotlout and Ruffnut. By the time Hiccup caught them all up, they had sunk to a crying heap on the floor, arms around each other. It didn’t take long for Hiccup to join them, feeling Fishlegs’ arms come around him and letting his head fall into Astrid’s side as he cried himself dry with relief.

* * *

The dragons had made short work of reestablishing their fire in the great hall, and soon they were all gathered around it warming themselves and trying to clear their minds from the night’s events.

“I just can’t believe you’re all okay,” Fishlegs said, hurriedly stuffing tuna into his mouth between sentences. He’d explained that food had not been particularly forthcoming while he’d been effectively held hostage by the Grimborns.

“We all woke up on the island the morning after the storm,” Astrid explained, playing gently with Hiccup’s hair, whose face was currently buried in her stomach as he pushed through a particularly painful bout with his leg. “We had bits and pieces of wreckage all around, so we looked for you, but when we couldn’t find you we assumed the worst…”

“They fished me out of the water during the night, apparently,” Fishlegs explained. Beside him, Meatlug wriggled a little before settling down anew. “I was unconscious for a day or so, but they said I was babbling in **_G**ài**dhlig_ **in my sleep. It may well have saved my life; they kept me around because I had knowledge of the clan system and European politics more broadly. They asked me loads of questions, but I could never really work out what they were doing - other than they’d been paid to kill you, they said that in front of me after they shot down that yellow Nightmare. And then once I’d recovered a bit more they moved me into a small holding area below decks - and that’s when I saw this beautiful girl.” He turned to Meatlug and embraced her round the neck.

“And is that when your memories came back?” Snotlout asked. “Like ours did?”

Fishlegs nodded. “As soon as I saw her, it all came back to me. Which - can we just discuss how insane this is? That we’re basically reincarnations of ourselves from a thousand years ago? How weird is that?”

“Super trippy,” Tuffnut agreed, nodding seriously before taking another mouthful of food.

“Anyway, once the memories came back, I knew who Viggo and Ryker really were too, and the pieces of who they were and what their plan was all kind of fell into place. And I knew I had to do my best to protect the dragons, too. So I gave them little bits of information that weren’t exactly right, things that wouldn’t be so obviously damaging to their plans, but little things about culture and particularities of things that might upset their customers just a little, hoping it would be enough to stop the sales going through. But I did have to tell them some things that were true - they beat this other man who did something wrong and I was just so scared-”

“We don’t blame you, Fish,” Astrid interjected quickly.

“Yeah, you did what you had to do to survive,” Ruffnut agreed.

“We’re just glad you’re alright now.”

Fishlegs smiled. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “That… that means a lot.”

“Did they know who you were?” Hiccup asked, turning over slightly from where he was lying against Astrid’s belly. 

Fishlegs shook his head. “No. Their memories were patchy… I don’t think they knew that I knew who they really were. They’d probably have treated me much worse if they’d known that.”

“But you’re alright?” 

“A little hungry and tired, but unharmed,” Fishlegs confirmed. “Having Meatlug there was a comfort to me. And it made me know, deep down, that you guys were okay too? That you were safe, somewhere. Otherwise, why else would all this be happening?”

“That’s getting a bit too philosophical for me,” Snotlout said.

“I agree,” Tuffnut said. “Philogosopy, or whatever it’s called, it’s stupid.”

Hiccup sighed. “Besides, we’ve got other, bigger fish to fry.” He sat upright from Astrid’s lap and sighed, rubbing his hands in his eyes, his brief respite from the world over. “To start with, they have a sponsor. Someone paid them to get the dragons and bring them to them.”

“Not to mention they paid to have you killed,” Ruffnut pointed out. “_**Toll-tòine**_.”

“We need to work out who they are,” Hiccup said. “If we go back to Scotland without knowing that, I could be putting all of you and our dragons in danger.”

“Well, who would want to have you killed?” Snotlout asked.

“That’s the thing,” Hiccup said earnestly. “I can’t think of anyone. Dad and I have never had any enemies; our old feuds ended centuries ago, and everyone I’ve met since becoming Chief has been genuine and kind with me.”

“Viggo said he had a letter,” Fishlegs said, looking up from where he’d been staring into the fire in concentration for the last thirty seconds. “He kept it, as _insurance_, he said. To make sure he got paid, otherwise they’d circulate the letter and hang their patron out to dry.”

“Do you know who wrote the letter?” Astrid asked, but he was already shaking his head.

“No, I never saw it. He kept it on him all the time, said it was too valuable to leave lying around.”

“If he kept it on him…”

“It’s probably still on him now,” Fishlegs concluded solemnly. They all knew what that meant.

“I’ll get it,” Hiccup said, looking round at all of them. He shrugged in response to their silence. “Someone’s got to.”

“I’ll come with you,” Astrid said, making to stand up, but he placed a hand on her knee.

“It’s okay,” he smiled sadly. “I don’t want you to see… and Toothless can help me walk.”

“Okay,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “Okay. But be careful, please?”

“You know I will be.”

Hiccup struggled to his feet for only a second before Toothless nosed him onto his back, a low moan escaping in protest.

“Thanks, bud,” Hiccup said. The familiar phrase warmed Astrid’s heart even as she watched them disappear into the night. She turned to Fishlegs in an attempt to distract herself.

“Fish, are you still hungry?” she asked. “Do you want any more food?”

He considered this for a moment, tilting his head to one side. “I mean, if there’s any going… But, don’t we need to worry about rationing it?”

Astrid looked at Ruffnut, who shrugged. “We have the dragons now, and we know they know where livestock is; that means a dependable source of food even if we can’t get off the island.”

“Oh, I hope we can,” Snotlout said, sitting up from where he was reclining slightly on Hookfang. The dragon cracked an eye open, before snorting lightly and going back to sleep. “We should be able to, right? Surely the dragons can take us.”

“I would imagine so,” Astrid nodded. “I have memories of us flying great distances from before. But the question is whether it’s safe for Hiccup, for any of us to go back to Scotland. And we need to make a plan about keeping the dragons safe if we do go back. It’s going to be like it was before, but even harder. We’ll need to talk about it in detail, get Hiccup to ask Toothless for the dragons’ perspective-”

Ruffnut gestured with her good wrist to somewhere behind Astrid. “He’s back.”

Astrid looked over her shoulder again, and saw Hiccup walking slowly back into the hall, Toothless at his side and a tarnished piece of parchment in his hand. 

“Hiccup?” she asked gently as he neared the fire again. His face was devoid of emotion.

“Hiccup, what-?”

“It’s Malcolm,” he said, and her heart froze.

“What?”

“Who’s Malcolm?” Tuff whispered loudly.

“Malcolm’s dad is another Seventh Chief,” Fishlegs stage-whispered back. “Hiccup and he were friends when they were younger.”

“Are they not friends now?”

“Well, considering he’s paid someone to have me killed, I doubt I’m still on his Christmas card list,” Hiccup snarked. Astrid could hear all the buoyant emotion she was so used to hearing in his voice drain away with each word until his tone was icy-cold.

“Hiccup-”

“We have to go back,” Hiccup cut her off. Something flared in his eyes that rendered her speechless. No one dared move. They’d none of them ever seen him apoplectic with anger before.

“We have to go back right now,” he said. “We have to go back and confront him, we have to tell people what he’s done. What they’ve done.”

“Who-?”

“Strathnaver. Elgin. Argyll. They’ve all signed this letter. We have to go back and tell people what they’ve done, to keep the dragons safe.” Astrid noticed Hiccup’s hands begin to tremble. Carefully, she got to her feet and made her way over to him, one slow pace at a time

“Listen to me,” she said softly, holding her hands up defensively. “We’ve had a big day. We’re all shaken up. We all need some food and some sleep. I know you want to head out straightaway and get back to Scotland, but at this point taking six hours to rest isn’t going to slow us down any.” She reached him and slowly stretched out her fingers until she made contact with his skin. 

He looked her dead in the eye with a harshness she hadn’t thought him capable of. “Astrid-” 

“I know, Hiccup, and we will make sure they get the justice they deserve,” she said quickly. “But you need rest.” 

“Astrid-” he tried again.

“Hiccup.”

For a few seconds he held her gaze, searching for concession she was not willing to give, trying to see if there was any way he could win this argument. She simply waited patiently until he hung his head in submission, dropping his forehead to hers.

“Alright.” One of his hands grabbed her wrist loosely and pulled it closer to him. He took a deep breath and exhaled it out slowly; Astrid didn’t miss the way his chest trembled as he tried to calm himself down.

“But first thing,” he muttered. “First thing, we have to stop him. For the dragons.”

* * *

**Cairngorm Mountains, Scottish Highlands**

Scotland from the air was as stunning as it was on land - and equally as cold, if not more so. Astrid had a vague memory of old-Hiccup (as she’d taken to referring to him as) wearing copious amounts of leather in a custom flying suit to keep the cold out. Hunched over on Stormfly’s back as they neared the north-western coastline, she would have given almost anything for even one more layer of clothing to protect her against the biting wind. Even Stormfly’s warmth beneath her wasn’t quite enough, and her fingers quickly began to stiffen from the cold.

They’d left the majority of the dragons behind on Berk, with instructions from Toothless to remain there hidden - as long as they could, anyway. Astrid got the impression that many were relieved to not be returning to the Hidden World, but she didn’t have much time to dwell on it as they busied themselves packing up their scant possessions for their return flight to Scotland. All of them were itching to return, but Hiccup was by far the most agitated. She’d forced him to sit down so that she could dress his wound, but even then his leg bounced as the furious energy of their fight drained slowly from his system. She barely had time to more than glimpse at the cut - which seemed normal enough - before he was insistent on dressing it himself so that he could be sooner up in the air with Toothless, sooner on the way to confront their enemies.

With their dragons almost ready to fly, she’d managed to convince them all to try and get at least some sleep before the journey ahead. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed was the first hint of dawn outside the grand doors of the hall. Protected by their dragons, and warm, and relieved to be whole, each of them slept fitfully for the first time in weeks, if only for a few hours.

Several hours later, somewhere over the Highlands, Astrid wished that she could have slept for several days instead.

Now, the sun was starting to become ever so slightly dimmer to their west, and they were fast running out of options. Using muscle memory Astrid wasn’t aware she possessed, she gently directed Stormfly to fly a little faster until they came up parallel with Hiccup and Toothless at the front of their loose formation. She watched Hiccup scowl at the ground before he turned his gaze towards her.

“Any idea of where we are?” she called, raising her voice over the gusts that blew around them.

Hiccup shook his head and adjusted his grip on Toothless. “I didn’t realise how hard it would be to identify things from the air,” he said sadly. “I thought it would be much easier than this, but it all looks the same, and I don’t want to risk flying lower in case someone is able to make the dragons out.”

The plan had been to identify the Haddock lands from the sky, by aiming roughly for the most north-westerly point of Scotland and following the coast south towards their holdings. However, they’d arrived more directly west than anticipated, and now faced the challenge of determining how far north they should aim. Too high, and they’d miss it altogether. Too low, and they risked being seen by even more people as the population increased in density near Oban and Fort William.

They’d long since left the coast behind, and Astrid was beginning to be convinced that they were now far too inland to have any chance of properly orientating themselves. It was getting late in the day, and the dragons had flown a great distance. Meatlug in particular was starting to fatigue in the air; on her back, Fishlegs didn’t look much less tired. Even the twins were beginning to lag, the quantity of jokes and clouds of zippleback gas that had been notable points of their journey having been drastically reduced in the last hour.

“Let’s drop down over there,” she called to Hiccup, gesturing to a small forest approaching below them on the ground. “It’s sheltered, and there might be game the dragons can hunt for food.”

“We’re nearly there, Astrid, I can feel it-”

“I think we’re too far inland,” she said. “We’ll have to go back tomorrow, and have a better look.”

“No, you don’t understand, I can feel that we’re getting close to it,” he insisted. “Wherever we’re going, it’s calling me, it feels like… It feels like home.”

“I get that, Hiccup, but we can’t stay in the air for much longer. Even if Meatlug wasn’t dropping out of the sky, we need daylight to make a new camp.”

He nodded slowly. “Alright. I concede the point.” He turned over his shoulder and gestured to the ground below. “Head for that forest, gang!”

“Oh, thank the lord,” Fishlegs muttered as Meatlug gratefully began to descend to the forest beneath them.

It took them a couple of passes, but eventually Snotlout shouted over that he’d found somewhere for them to camp for the night, on the north-western corner of the carpet of trees below them. One by one, the dragons carefully dropped them down to the ground below. Astrid was last, taking one last look out to the dying sunlight behind the mountains to the west before directing Stormfly to the ground in succession.

As the twins and Snotlout collapsed in a heap by their dragons, Astrid jumped off Stormfly and gave her dragon a loving hug round the neck. Then, she turned and walked over to where Toothless and Hiccup had just landed, reaching her arms up to help him down off the dragon. A day of flying, and his leg had stiffened into one position; he winced in pain as he swung himself round into her grasp.

“That’s it, careful,” she said as they carefully lowered him to the ground. “Good job.”

Toothless crooned inquisitively, and despite the pain he must have been feeling, Astrid watched as Hiccup turned round and embraced him without hesitation.

“Thanks, bud. I’m okay, I just need a rest. I think we all do.” He gestured over to Tuffnut, who had collapsed backwards over Belch’s neck with one hand thrown dramatically over his eyes.

“You know, we used to fly all day before,” Astrid chuckled as she moved over to help Hookfang loosen the crate attached to him. 

“Yeah, but we also had saddles, and years of experience on dragonback before,” Ruffnut pointed out. “That just then? That was something else.”

“We did it though,” Hiccup called as Astrid lifted the crate free; Hookfang gave her a gentle nudge in thanks. She turned to make eye contact with him.

Hiccup smiled. “We made it home, didn’t we? We made it back to Scotland.”

“And I for one am very glad,” Fishlegs sighed, running a gentle hand over Meatlug’s side. “Good girl, you did so well…”

“Now we just need to work out where we are,” Hiccup said, limping over to Astrid’s side. She rolled her eyes.

“First, we all need a rest. And some food. We’ve barely eaten all day.”

“But-”

“Toothless!” Astrid called; within a second, Toothless had carefully swept Hiccup off his feet and sat him on the ground.

“Mutinous reptile,” Hiccup grumbled, before breaking into a smile and embracing the dragon again. 

“We do need to work out where we are though,” Fishlegs said. “If I were to hazard a guess, we’ve come much farther east than we intended, somewhere off that side of the Cairngorms.”

“Hmm. We’ll need to be careful,” Hiccup replied. “Most of the clans have some kind of allegiance to at least one of the Seven. If we pick the wrong clan to approach, we could put ourselves in more danger. And the dragons are going to make things even more difficult. People won’t understand.” He looked at Toothless, who crooned softly and nudged his head closer.

“If we’re far enough south, the Atholls might be able to help us,” Fishlegs pointed out. “They’re allies of Caithness, they’ll give us protection.”

Hiccup nodded. “I agree. Chief Keir was a good friend of my father, and of the Clan. I think we can trust them. Blair Atholl is a good bet.”

“But how do we orientate ourselves?” Astrid asked. “We don’t have any maps, and we can only fly low and at night, which will make it hard to navigate as well.”

Hiccup chewed his bottom lip in thought. “I guess we head west on foot. Eventually we’ll reach the train line that runs between Edinburgh and Inverness, and we’ll have a way of getting somewhere we know.”

“But doesn’t that mean crossing the Cairngorms?” Snotlout pointed out from somewhere across the clearing.

“Yes, but I think we’re far enough north that it won’t matter too much,” Hiccup said.

Astrid tittered. “I don’t think so, Hiccup. Not with your leg as it is.” 

“My leg is _fine_, Astrid, it’ll be alright-”

“I think you’re being a little optimistic.”

“Guys-”

“I’m not being optimistic, I’m perfectly capable of judging my own physical ability, thank you-”

“Well, excuse me for being concerned about your welfare. I’ll just go over and sit with Stormfly until you decide what we’re doing, shall I?”

“Astrid, you know that-”

“You two! Shut up!” Snotlout hissed. Astrid broke away from her spat with Hiccup and noticed the others had all dropped into defensive stances. Hookfang was snarling softly as his eyes whipped around the tree line.

“What the-?” Hiccup began, before yelping as Fishlegs yanked him down to his knees. “Fishlegs, _**a mhac na galla**_, ow!”

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot!” Fishlegs squeaked, before dropping to a whisper. 

“I can hear someone coming. A lot of someones,” Ruffnut called.

“Where from?” Astrid said, turning outwards - but before Fishlegs could respond, the sound of heavy footfalls registered to the east. Heavy boots, running towards them. It seemed they would not need to find the newcomers. The other clan had found them first.

Toothless growled and swept Hiccup under his wing, before growling orders at the other dragons to do the same to their riders.

“We are perfectly capable of defending ourselves, would you please stop that-!” 

“Shut up,” Ruffnut whispered. “They’re almost here.”

The band of humans and dragons stood and waited. Astrid felt her stomach drop out as the seconds stretched out and out. Stormfly chittered and shifted on her feet.

Then, a voice appeared through the trees.

“_Step away from those dragons with your hands up_.”

The command came in Gaelic; Astrid looked to the others for confirmation of what the person had said, the language still a little unfamiliar to her.

“These are our dragons. They will defend us,” Hiccup called back in English for her benefit.

“_They are not your dragons. Dragons are not to be commanded by men_.”

“What?”

“_Step away from the dragons, or we will **make** you_.”

Around them, two dozen armed clansmen came into view, treading a slow and careful circle around them. A circle that was rapidly narrowing.

“You think we are harming them?” Hiccup asked, looking earnestly for the source of the commands. “You think we are forcing them to submit to us?”

“We know your kind, dragon trappers.” The menacing voice was revealed as belonging to another clansman, stepped a little back from the closing circle with a great staff in their hand and a sash clasped at their right shoulder. Clearly the leader of the group. “We will not let you harm these beasts any longer.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Hiccup insisted, slowly raising his arms in a defensive stance. Around them, the dragons shuffled, wings slowly expanding, gently tucking their humans under their bodies for protection. “We were attacked by these dragon hunters you speak of. The dragons came to our defence; they would never harm us. We would never harm them. We couldn’t. It’s not our way.”

“_There is only one Clan whose way is dragons_,” the voice came again. Astrid thought for a second that it was a woman’s voice, low though it was. “_And they have abandoned their way of life almost entirely. Their Chief has left Scotland. I doubt you are them_.”

Hiccup glanced briefly over at Astrid, the conversation between them happening without words. They were that Clan. But revealing that to another clan who might have been allied with those who had plotted to kill them may well put them in danger all over again. They couldn’t reveal their identities so easily.

“I am a Chief of a Clan. We don’t know who we can trust,” Hiccup pled, arms outstreched in an attempt to keep the dragons from the people, and the people from the dragons in equal measure. Behind him, Astrid hurriedly began soothing Toothless and Hookfang, who seemed to be most eager to jump to their defence. “There has been an attempt on my life, on all of our lives. We trust only one Clan-”

“_Name them. Name their words_.”

“**_Clann na Cearda. Dèan d ’obair gu dia._”** _Clan Sinclair. Commit thy work to God._

“_And now your own_.”

“How do we know we can trust you?”

“_We will kill you right here and right now for touching these dragons if you do not tell us your Clan and words in the next ten seconds_.”

“Alright! Alright! Our words are _**bi mar ghuth na sìthe**_.”

It had been a test. It worked. A silence fell across their captors. Slowly, one by one, their heads turned to look at their leader

“_**Clann Haddock**_?” She placed her staff down on the ground and stepped forward, carefully removing her war helmet as she went. Her hair appeared first from where it had been curled up against her head; even bound in tight braids it fell well below her waist, deep red in the torch light. Her face was bony and angular, but what caught Astrid’s eye more than anything else about this woman were her eyes. Because she knew that shade of green exactly. Just in a different face.

“You are Chief Hugh? Of Clan Haddock?” she asked tentatively as she approached them. Something ran up Astrid’s spine and raised the hairs on her arms. The fog of a memory, not quite formed as a whole.

“Yes.” Hiccup spoke with a sense of finality, as though he were signing his own death warrant. He may well have felt as though that were the case.

“Son of Stoick?”

“Yes.”

The woman came to a halt two paces from Hiccup, every pair of eyes fixed on the two of them, waiting for one of them to speak.

Hiccup squinted closer at her. Astrid could see the cogs of his memory whirring, felt her own moving at a similar pace. “Have we met before?”

The woman shook her head, biting her lip. Astrid recognised the nervous tick. Hiccup did it too.

“Not since you were a wee bairn. Both times. And that’s no one’s fault but mine.” Slowly, she raised one hand and brought it to rest lightly on his cheek. Hiccup started but did not move away from her touch.  
  
“_**Mo mhac**_?” she whispered. “_**An e gu dearbh thu**_?”

Hiccup gasped and stumbled slightly as the memories hit him. “**Màthair**?”

Even Astrid knew enough Gaelic for that one.

She watched with tears pooling in her eyes as Hiccup raised two trembling arms and embraced his mother for the first time in this life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year all! I hope 2020 is a year full of peace, happiness and love for all of you ❤️
> 
> I have had exactly one week back at university in class and I'm already so tired I need to sleep for a week aha
> 
> I will do my upmost to publish weekly but I know for a fact that there's going to be at least a couple of weeks between now and the end of this work where that's not going to be feasible - I'm grateful for your patience (and your lovely comments and support) ❤️❤️
> 
> barring any more major restructuring of the plot, I estimate that there will be 6 more chapters after this one, plus an epilogue
> 
> Clan Haddock's motto ("bi mar ghuth na sìthe") means "be the voice of peace"
> 
> as always, be kind to yourself and others, and I look forward to seeing your reactions... 
> 
> minty xoxo


	19. fallen through time

_cw: reference to postnatal depression, implied self harm and chronic anxiety/depression [third section]_

**MAY 1908**   
**Scottish Highlands**

Huntly Castle was at least a three day hike from where they’d landed, but by dragon flight it would take them no more than a couple of hours to reach shelter and food. Hiccup had initially thought that they would need to split Valka’s clansmen among them, to manage carrying them all back at the same time, but it turned out that the Gordons too had their own dragons, who were resting peacefully less than five minutes’ walk away at the edge of the forest. As they broke through the treeline, Hiccup immediately registered a great four-winged dragon that sleepily rose to its feet and moved over to greet them, nosing its head into Valka’s chest before coming to greet Hiccup and Toothless. The whir of memories flitting through his mind was now so familiar as to be barely noticeable as the dragon turned to look at Hiccup.

“Hey, Cloudjumper,” Hiccup smiled, reaching a hand out to scratch the dragon’s head. “It’s good to see you again.”

Cloudjumper gave a soft purr before leaning over to greet Toothless; the black dragon bobbed his head and pranced around with his tongue lolling out! _Friend! I missed my friend!_ Hiccup heard him say. Cloudjumper gave the equivalent of an eye roll (as far as it was possible for a dragon to do so) before reluctantly jumping around with Toothless too, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Well, they’re certainly getting on better this time, aren’t they?” 

Hiccup turned over his shoulder and saw his mother watching him with a small smile on her face. The setting sun had darkened the forest quickly, and there hadn’t really been enough light to distinguish one colour from another, but out of the shadow of the trees, he was able to use the last rays of sunlight to distinguish the tartan that draped her shoulders and legs. Blue and green, with golden yellow streaks throughout. 

“Clan Gordon,” he noted softly to himself. Then it clicked in his brain. “Wait, you’re Clan Gordon? _You’re_ the Chieftainess in her own right?”

Valka - his mother; that was going to take some getting used to - blushed a little and looked down at the floor. “Well, I suppose I am. And there’s a story behind that too, but I’ll explain when we get back. It’s getting dark and cold now, and I’d rather we have our discussion in front of a fire.”

“Right.”

He felt a soft tap on his shoulder and turned his head to find Astrid watching him carefully.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly as Valka strode away to retrieve Cloudjumper and Toothless, who had frolicked deep enough into the field as to almost be out of sight.

Gently, using her arms for support, he turned himself round, being careful not to twist his leg too suddenly. “It’s a lot to take in,” he admitted. “I want to believe she had a good reason for abandoning us, but…”

Astrid picked up his hands in her own and squeezed them gently. “Your parents adored you, Hiccup. Both times. I’m not defending whatever actions she might have taken, but I believe she did it with your best interests at heart.”

“You think?”

She nodded, raising a hand to cup his cheek and looking at his face as though searching for something. For a second, all the world around them - all the noise of the dragons and the Gordon clansmen preparing for flight and the twins moaning about how tired they were - it all melted away in a moment of respite. Despite the pain and exhaustion that pulled at the edges of his every thought, for a handful of breaths Hiccup only saw Astrid’s face, felt only her hands on his face and torso and her breath against the hollow of his throat as he pulled her more tightly into his embrace and planted his lips against her hair. For all they had gone through in the last few days - hell, everything he’d endured since his father had died - he’d have gone through it all again to keep her safe. 

Eyes closed, he leant down until he felt his nose brush the shell of her ear. 

“I love you,” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss against her earlobe and revelling in the gentle shudder that ran down her spine at his words.

“I love you too,” she replied, tightening her grip on his shirt for a few seconds more before gently parting from him.

His eyes opened and looked down for her. The sun had almost completely set, but the last vestiges caught all of the curves of her face, accenting her features even more. He didn’t care that her face was smudged in dirt or her clothes were bloody and torn or that both of them probably stank to high heaven. He cared about the shape of her lips as they pulled back into a broad smile at the sight of him and the way her eyes shone with adoration and happiness and way she instinctively leaned into his touch.

They were alive. They were together.

No matter what happened, there was nothing anyone could do to take that moment from him.

* * *

**Huntly Castle, the Cairngorms, Scottish Highlands**

Haddock Manor was just that - a large country house on the side of a hill on the western coast that could comfortably sleep twelve people and welcome a few more at times of celebration and sorrow. Hiccup had spent his entire childhood in that house, knew every inch of panelling and staircase and piping, could draw an entirely accurate floor plan from memory and walk around blindfolded without bumping into anything.

Huntly Castle, the seat of Clan Gordon, would have fit his childhood home inside four times over with room to spare.

The castle was still bustling with energy as they approached, even though it was now well after sunset. The courtyard was mostly clear on their final approach, providing a space for the dragons to touch down within the safety of the walls and unload their riders, before crossing the cobbles towards the great stable building on the other side to the entrance to the castle. The entryway to the indoors was narrow, and only a few of the dragons would have managed to squeeze through. Valka noticed Hiccup eyeing it up as he dismounted Toothless and stepped over.

“It wasn’t built when dragons were a feature of life here,” she said softly. “We have to make do with what’s available to us. But so far, the castle has served well as a safe haven for dragons. We are well protected by the mountains around us. Very few could get close enough undetected to discover our secret.”

“How is it that you have so many dragons?” Hiccup asked, turning around to observe them all. “It’s like being back on Berk.”

He noticed her swallow gently before replying.

“They’ve been arriving here slowly over the last few years. They come here for refuge, to keep themselves safe. They know who I am, and I they. Many of them we knew… before.”

He turned in surprise to look at her. “You know then? About our lives before?”

She nodded and bit her lip. “Since the day you were born.” Her face darkened. “Hiccup, I-”

“My Lady.” One of the Gordon clansmen had approached them and was waiting patiently behind her. If he had a reaction to Hiccup’s presence, he did not show it. “I have news, from the Sutherlands.” He offered out a small letter.

“The Sutherlands?” Hiccup said incredulously as his mother broke the dark blue seal on the envelope. “They were the ones who tried to have me killed. Please tell me that-” 

“We’re not allied with them,” Valka said, her eyes frantically scanning the letter before rising and looking at the man who had just approached her with a sudden steel in her gaze. “Not now and not ever. We don’t ally with kinslayers.”

“Kinslayers…?”

“It appears Robert Sutherland has died. Quite suddenly.” Valka’s voice was laced with contempt.

Hiccup’s eyes widened. “_What_?”

“Daibhidh, call the clan together. Everyone who is available and wants to take part needs to join us. We have much to discuss.”

* * *

_“…it is with great anguish that I announce the death of my father, Robert, the 17th Earl Sutherland in the early hours of the morning yesterday. I ascend to my new role with great melancholy at the loss of my father, but with a willingness and optimism that I may use the opportunity to seek cooperation with the other clans that form our great nation, to help restore Scotland to its former glory, no matter the price. _

_In further tragic news, it is my sad duty to inform the clans of Scotland that the young Chief Haddock, the Duke of Selkirk, has been lost at sea during a voyage across the Atlantic. He travelled with what little remained of his clan, and died unmarried and childless. Thus, we must all concern ourselves, in time, with the Seventh that must be reassigned to one of our great clans to continue his work. For now, however, we mourn collectively for a bright young soul, lost to us forever._

_These are trying, and unprecedented, times. We need each other now more than ever. Clan Sutherland is willing to lead the way to our collective recovery. In the coming weeks, representatives from our Clan shall endeavour to cross the length and width of Scotland to seek each of you out and assure you of our support for you, in any manner available to us. United, we are as one. And as one we will see Scotland independent and free. This I promise you. _

_Remaining your servant, Malcolm Robert Andrew Grant Sutherland, Chief of Clan Sutherland and 18th Earl of Sutherland. SANS PEUR.”_

Valka finished reading the letter and laid it down carefully on the table that occupied the middle of the room.

“The bastard,” one of the clanswomen, Mhairi, swore, breaking the silence that had followed the end of the letter. “How dare he?”

Astrid watched as Hiccup leant towards his mother from across the table, his fingers clenched into loose fists. The members of the Gordons’ war council had gathered loosely around Valka, spreading all the way around the table, but leaving a little room almost opposite their Chieftain for the six Haddocks to join them. Someone had been kind enough to bring a chair for Hiccup’s leg, since he had insisted that the doctor would have to wait until they had something resembling a way forward before attending to him. They all six of them were tired and hungry and stank like something awful after the previous week’s - _had it really only been that little time?_ \- events, but even beyond all of that they were all still coursing with adrenaline and desperate for some idea of what the future might look like after the tumultuous revelations of the last few days. Not even Valka could find it in herself to deny them that. No one could have stopped them if they’d tried, anyway.

“He thinks I’m dead,” Hiccup remarked without inflection. “And if I’m dead, there’s an empty Seventh seat. And he’ll want to fill it with one of his allies. That’s what this parade around the Highlands is about - to raise support for his nomination to the seat. We’d be stupid to see it as anything else.”

“But you’re back, _**Ceannard **_Hugh,” one of Valka’s advisors pointed out. “So the position doesna need to be filled, aye?”

Hiccup shook his head. “There is strategic advantage in keeping this information from him. At least, until we work out what we’re going to do with the dragons. My return will be seismic after that letter, attract a lot of attention that we don’t necessarily want, especially not right now. We need to bide our time, see what happens, plan. Get the dragons to safety, above all else.”

Valka drew a deep breath across from him, her eyes frowning at the grain in the table before rising to meet his gaze. “Son…” 

The other Gordons shifted around her, like a flock of birds preparing to take flight from a predator. Something prickled the back of Astrid’s neck, and she looked down to see Hiccup stiffen in turn, his hands shifting back to grip the arms of the chair.

“What is it?” he asked. “What have I missed?” He looked around them all, and found only silence. “What is it that you’re not telling me? I know it’s something big.”

Valka bit her lip for a few more seconds before responding. “You ken there is conflict on the continent?”

“Yeah?”

“And you ken that before you left, there was much disagreement here about the role that Scotland should play in the war to come?”

“We had a whole Gathering about it, before I left.” Hiccup’s sentence trailed off into silence as his thoughts took over. In Astrid’s own mind, the pieces began to swirl in kind, not yet fitting together yet coalescing around an unknown centre. “We couldn’t reach an agreement.”

“While you were gone, the government announced that there is to be a vote, in both the Commons and the Lords, about exactly that. Sutherland and his allies were leading the charge to cement our involvement. Their views are… not widely shared, but many of the clans fear them such that they will vote for it regardless.”

“So we need to convince the clans that it’s a bad idea then,” Snotlout chimed in, but Valka was already shaking her head. 

“I like how you’re thinking, young Jorgenson, but it’s a wee bit more complicated than that.”

“How so?” Something in Astrid’s stomach wasn’t sitting right.

“Sutherland and Elgin and Argyll, they plan to fill your seat with Clan Ogilvie - Earl Airlie’s clan. And once they have a majority, they plan to change the laws of the Gathering so that they may act as Scotland’s sole voice, command all the votes in the Chamber that we nobility hold currently as individuals. They plan to manipulate the votes and force England into war, then use their new power to set Scotland free from the union. With them not officially involved in the war, they can sell their new weapons to both sides, and claim their legacy as the men who freed Scotland for all of history to remember.”

“This is insane,” Astrid said, voice barely more than a whisper. “How can you possibly know all this?”

“We’ve been intercepting their letters for months,” Mhairi explained. “We’ve been building up a picture of what they’ve been planning. Your testimony, and the letter you brought from the trappers, fill in most of the blanks we had left.”

“When is the vote?” Hiccup asked.

“Six weeks from now.”

“That’s not a lot of time,” Astrid noted, gaze flickering over to meet Hiccup’s. His eyebrows met briefly in a frown, before he turned back to look at the room. “We need to come up with a plan, a strategy to keep them at bay-”

“We have to keep the dragons safe,” Hiccup cut in, placing a palm firmly on the table. “They’re in danger right now, from this, this… absurd plan of weaponising them. We need to sort out how to keep them safe, whether to take them back to the Hidden World before anyone else finds out-”

“It’s a wee bit late for that now, lad,” Daibhidh muttered. 

“What do you mean?” 

“_Daibhidh_,” Valka snapped. “**_Chan ann an-dràsta!_**”

“**_Cò mu dheidhinn a tha e a ’bruidhinn, à màthair__?_**” Hiccup asked, rising to his feet slowly. Only Astrid was close enough to see the small wince of pain that crossed his features as he put pressure on his bad leg. “_What is he talking about, Mom?_”

“**_Tha thu ag ràdh nach eil fios aige?_**” Mhairi hissed incredulously; Valka tried to swat away her comment with her hand, but it was too late.

“_He_ doesn’t know _what_, exactly?” There was a new bite to his voice.

“_**Feumaidh tu innse dha,**_” Mhairi said. 

“_**Innis dha dè?**_”

“Oh, Hiccup, _**mo ghille gaolach**_.” Valka smiled sadly, turning to face him with a sigh. “_**Tha mi cho duilich**_, son. We tried to keep this from you to protect you, to give you a chance at a worry-free childhood-”

“_**Cùm dè bhuam? Cò a th 'ann an "‘sinn"?**_”

Valka turned to her clan. “**_Mo chàirdean, is dòcha gu bheil an seòmar agam?_**”

Astrid leant over to Fishlegs as muttering broke out among the Gordons. “The Gaelic is beyond what I can understand; what’s going on?”

“Hiccup’s cross that things have been kept from him,” Fishlegs whispered back. “He asked what they’ve kepy from him, and who’s been involved with it. He tends to revert to Gaelic when he’s angry. Valka’s asked her lot to leave; I don’t know why, but it doesn’t sound too good.”

Astrid’s gaze turned back to the people across the table. There was clearly some resistance to Valka’s request, with a few murmured suggestions that she quickly rebutted, but gradually, one by one, the Gordons turned and filed out of the room until only the six young Haddocks and Valka remained. Hiccup twisted round in his seat to face the others; a fresh lance of pain flew across his face.

“Gang, do you think you could give us some privacy to discuss this? I’ll fill you in with everything later, I promise. You should probably get some rest anyway.”

“Of course,” Ruffnut nodded.

“We understand,” Fishlegs smiled. “We’ll go get some food and wait for you upstairs, okay?”

“Thanks, guys.”

Snotlout was closest to the door, and strode off to hold it open for the rest of them; Astrid made to follow, but felt a pressure in the crook of her elbow as she gathered her bloody skirts.

“Stay? Please?” Hiccup’s voice was wavering with repressed emotion and exhaustion; his whole face begged her to not leave him. She found his eyes, scared and confused, and wondered how he thought she could ever say no to his request.

“Always,” she said softly, covering his hand with her own. Across the room, Fishlegs smiled at them before following Ruffnut out the door. As the door closed behind their friends, Valka strode round the table and tentatively took one of Hiccup’s hands gently in her own.

“How much do you remember of your life before, son? Of your… first life?”

“I…” Hiccup swallowed as he dug through the memories. “The dragons… We were at war. And then we made peace and befriended them. Because of me and Toothless.”

Valka smiled. “That you did, my lad. That you did. And do you remember what happened to them? The dragons?” she prompted gently. Astrid shifted a hand onto Hiccup’s shoulder, rubbing it in support and smiling when she felt him relax slightly under her touch.

“We… we had to seal them away. Because of the danger they were in. We sent them to the Hidden World, to keep them safe from humans.”

Valka nodded. “And there they stayed, for nearly a thousand years, protected from the world around them by geography and magic. Around twenty years ago, that started changing.” She raised her eyes to look at both of them in turn. “They came back to this world as folk stories first; a fleeting glimpse by a lone clansmen on patrol in the far northern reaches of Scotland, a small sighting in the skies above a fishing village on Lewis - nothing that could be proved. We all dismissed them, denounced them as attention-seeking. And then we saw them for ourselves.”

A smile danced across Valka’s face. “When I saw Cloudjumper again, it was like someone had simply snapped their fingers and restored a clarity in my head that had been missing all my life. The memories of our time together a thousand years ago came back, all at once, and I knew who I was, what my _purpose_ was. The dragons’ home was gradually being disrupted by the movement of the earth; it was only a matter of time before it could no longer serve their needs. In preparation for their displacement, the dragons took once again to the surface of the sea in search of new lands to call home. They found it here, in **_Alba_**. 

“The legends of Clan Haddock are common knowledge among the clans. When the stories of the dragons’ reappearance became more concrete, they sought out your father, who had recently been made Chief, to ask him to lead the clans in their response to the dragons.”

Her smile widened and her eyes glazed over slightly as she recalled. “We’d been married a scant eight months, and I was already pregnant with you. I could feel you turning in my belly, kicking at the sound of his voice. I felt so lucky to have you with me, to be able to raise a child with the man I loved.”

Valka sighed and dropped Hiccup’s hand, rising from the table and striding across the floor to the window. For a few seconds, she stared out into the night, a wistful expression on her face, before turning back to face them.

“I grew up a Davidson; I did not know the intimate details of the Clan Haddock legends. That was what I believed them to be - stories, for children. But Stoick did. He sat me down on the night he’d been informed of the dragons return, and he told me everything. And at the start, I didn’t believe him, not one word of it. I thought that he was having me on at best, had gone mad at worst. You know what your father was like - once he was set on something, there was no dissuading him. I debated trying to sneak away and return home to my parents’ Clan, so that you would be protected no matter what.

“Until Cloudjumper appeared to me a few days later. And then it wasn’t a case of believing anymore. It was _living_, being a part of something too big to truly comprehend.”

She looked directly at Hiccup.

“We didn’t know what your role might be in the years to come, but we wanted more than anything, as your parents, for you to grow up without the pressure of your heritage on you. We wanted you to be happy, healthy, live a normal life for as long as was possible. Your father pushed hard for it - he remembered how he’d been before and wanted to do it differently this time. We did everything we could to prepare the world for you - and you for the world.”

“But… but you weren’t there when I was a child…” Astrid could tell Hiccup had tried to hide the accusation in his voice. Whether it was due to the pain or the tiredness, he wasn’t succeeding.

Valka looked down at the floor sheepishly. “Aye, I wasn’t,” she muttered, scowling at the floorboards for a few more seconds before looking back up at him. “Because I was a fool and a coward. Because I let my emotions overwhelm me and my selfishness talk me out of motherhood.”

She smiled softly, and began crossing back towards them, resuming her seat on the edge of the table. “I remember your birth. Most women don’t really recall the experience of birth because of the pain they endure, but I remember every second. I laboured with you for a whole day and night, walked countless laps around the bedroom until it was time to bring you into the world. With every contraction, more of my memory returned - and maybe some of it was premonition too. All I knew was that when they wrapped you in a blanket and presented you to me for the first time, it was too much. It was too much, looking at your tiny face and hands and that red hair that’s so similar to mine. Looking at you and knowing the pain of the decisions and choices of people made before you that would plague your every moment, forced to relive someone else’s life from a thousand years ago, without a choice in the matter or the option to step back for even a moment of respite. It was too much for me to bear, looking at your newborn face and realising all the burdens I had selfishly forced you into carrying.”

“So you left.” Astrid’s voice was hoarse.

“Yes. I snuck away the next night, packed a small bag of clothes and food and left with Cloudjumper into the darkness. That was a mistake for reasons even beyond abandoning my family.”

Hiccup’s head tilted questioningly. Valka sighed, tugging at her sleeves and for a brief second Astrid thought she could see some healing scars on her forearms.

“A few days into hiding in the woods with Cloudjumper, I contracted an infection. The fever made me hysterical, took all the fears I had in my head and worsened them a thousand times over. Cloudjumper took me to the nearest people he could find, even though he knew he was risking his own life doing so. We were lucky it was the Gordons - they share our vision of peace, and had other dragons already under their protection. They took us in, and nursed me back to health.”  
  
Valka rubbed at her forehead. “I don’t remember much of it. I was physically ill for several weeks while my body fought off the infection, but even after I recovered from that my mind was…” She took a deep breath, her hands grasping briefly at the edge of the table.

“It was a long time before I was well enough to talk to other people, or to travel. And during that time, your father had come to terms with my absence. He’d thought… well, everyone had thought I’d died. Turning up out of the blue after almost a year after abandoning you in the middle of the night, and with my head barely back on straight… I didn’t want to do that to him. To you. I wasn’t ready to be a mother before; I was even less prepared now. So I stayed. Built a new life here, with the Clan. Healed, as best I could. Even though I didn’t really deserve it.”

Astrid didn’t miss the way she tugged gently at her sleeves.  
  
“And so the years passed and I was left to watch you grow from a distance, through only letters and passed-on descriptions from others who had met you while I was not allowed. My greatest regret is, and will always be, that I never had the chance to reconcile with your father and apologise to him before he died. He loved both you and me with all his heart, and there is a part of me that blames myself at least in part for his death.”

Valka opened her mouth once more to continue talking, then closed it and sat in silence. For a while, none of them could think of anything to fill the gap with. Astrid took a hand and started gently dragging her fingers through Hiccup’s hair in lieu of speaking. It was as much for her own reassurance as his.

She watched the different emotions flit across his face as her fingers moved through his locks. Pain, loss, anger. Hope. Regret. Pain again.

His lips pursed as he swallowed dryly. “I understand,” he said.

Valka’s face lit up with unabashed surprise. “What?”

“I said I understand. It was a lot for you.”

“I was sure you’d hate me,” she whispered. “Because I abandoned you.”

“You did what you had to do,” he said.

Something prickled the back of Astrid’s neck at the sound of Hiccup’s voice. It was strained, in a way she’d never heard before. She looked up at Valka, who seemed equally concerned.

“**_Mo mhac?_** Are you alright?”

Astrid looked back down at Hiccup to find his eyes unfocused and his knuckles white as they grasped at the armrests of the chair.

“Hiccup?”

* * *

Something was twinging behind his kneecap.

It had been there for a while, ever since the fight on Berk, but he’d shoved it away to deal with later. They had bigger problems to go with. Meeting his mother for the first time, for instance. Stopping a war, for instance. _It was probably nothing_, he told himself as they crouched in the woods from potential attackers. _It was probably nothing_, as they’d flown east towards Huntly Castle. _It was probably nothing_, as they left the dragons in the courtyard, safe in the protection of his mother’s new clan.

It wasn’t nothing now. Now, it was white hot pain, intensifying by the second.

His mother’s words had long since lost meaning to him. He’d been trying desperately to process the information she was presenting to him, trying to digest not only the significance of the politics facing them but also of his own history, past and present. He’d become almost completely overwhelmed not long ago, barely able to form coherent sentences. Now it was just a battle to stay conscious.

Valka’s leg had been swinging idly as she perched on the edge of the table. He’d been looking at it for a while, unable to focus on much else.

It was almost as if time slowed as he watched, helpless, as it overcompensated for a too-great backwards swing and drove forward towards his own leg. 

It was barely more than a tap. Had he been well, he almost would have not felt it. As it was, for half a second - or maybe it was hundreds of years - it was almost enough for him to beg for the sweet release of death.

“_**Mhac na galla**_,” he swore, his vision temporarily whiteing out.

“Hiccup?” Valka’s voice sounded from somewhere in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s got to be his leg,” Astrid’s voice replied. “He hurt it in the shipwreck, but I thought it was on the mend…”

Somewhere in the recesses of his brain, he felt her tugging gently at his bandages for a few seconds before gasping loudly.

“…my god.”

“…infected…”

“…the doctor, quickly!”

“Hiccup.” Something smacked his face lightly. Then it came again, harder, and his vision returned to him. “Hiccup, can you hear me? We’re taking you to the doctor. Can you get to your feet so we can carry you?”

“’strid…” he mumbled. It was about the only thing he could manage. Her name. _Astrid_. 

It took a few seconds for his brain to catch up and understand the instructions she’d given him. Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself to the edge of the chair and onto his feet. He managed to stand on shaky legs for a bare second before collapsing to the floor.

The heat coursed burst out from his left knee and spread all throughout his lower body, white hot below the knee and very marginally cooler elsewhere. Then the cold began to wrack his torso, sending him shivering beyond control. The noise in the room fell away, leaving only a ringing sound in his ears that would not stop. He felt hands on him, material being pulled and torn, voices screaming for something he couldn’t decipher. All he could do was lie there and feel.

“…cup…”

A pair of kind blue eyes appeared above him. Two pink lips moved soundlessly, forming words he did not have any hope of understanding. 

Just before oblivion took him, he felt a voice in his head. _A friend, I think. I’m glad I had friends_, he noted to himself before the world fell away into nothing.


	20. here I am again

**JUNE 1908**   
**Huntly Castle, the Cairngorms, Scottish Highlands**

"Mistress Hofferson?" 

The words snapped her out of her reverie instantly; not that she'd really been deep in any kind of progressive thought. She'd spent the last few days in Valka's study with the Chieftainess, the two of them and their advisors desperately trying to work out how to achieve the support they needed to advance their vision and protect their dragons. But after a short-lived period of success with garnering support from some of the clans, they were beginning to run out of people they could turn to in confidence. And no matter how many times she spun the numbers in her head, barely more than a third of the Clans was simply not enough to command a majority at the gathering in a scant few weeks.

"Yes, Annella?" she replied, raising her head from the letters of support - and rejection - spread out across the table in front of her. A tendon in her neck twinged; she hadn't realised the tension she'd been holding there.

"Sorry to bother you, Mistress, but you asked me to come and find you if your-"

"Is he awake?" The hand that had risen to absentmindedly rub against the soreness in her neck dropped like a stone as the hope sparked in her chest. "Is Hiccup awake?"

The maid's face fell. "I'm sorry, Mistress, but no. Chief Haddock is still unconscious."

The hope fizzled out like water on a bonfire. Astrid felt the weight return to her body at Annella's words, and her eyes dropped back to the documents in front of her, though she didn't really take them in. Her neck was still sore, her whole body ached with exhaustion and she sighed before responding.

"Then what did you come to tell me?"

"That some of your clansmen have returned from their expedition, and are tending to their dragons in the courtyard. They asked for you as soon as they landed."

Astrid smiled gently. "Thank you, Annella. That is some good news, at least. Could you see to it that the kitchens prepare some food for them, and their dragons? They must be hungry after their journey."

Annella curtsied again. "At once, Mistress."

As the maid left the room, Astrid swept the letters back into a drawer for safekeeping, before straightening her clothes and heading downstairs to greet her returned friends. It was likely to be Fishlegs and Snotlout, along with a couple of Gordon clansmen, returned from their own attempts to create allies to their cause amongst the border clans, many of whom had members who Fishlegs had formed friendships with during his time at university. The twins were out on a similar mission further north, a trip which also served the additional purpose of checking on the remaining Haddock clansmen and lands, but they weren't expected back for another three days or so.

Three steps into the courtyard, and Stormfly was back at her side. The dragon, unable to fit into the castle due to her size, waited patiently at the steps of the doors for Astrid and sticking to her side as soon as she reappeared. There was some commotion in the courtyard, but then a gap in the crowd materialised and the two walked forward to meet their returned friends.

“Astrid!” Snotlout greeted her first, darting forward into a quick hug before being replaced by Fishlegs.

"It's good to have you guys back," she said honestly as Fishlegs released her from his embrace. "How was your journey?"

"Uneventful. We'll be glad to sleep in a familiar bed tonight, though," Fishlegs replied.

"Yeah, the Kerrs wouldn't even let us sleep in their keep as guests," Snotlout grumbled. "We had to camp out the last two nights. I have this knot in my back that _really_ hurts now."

"Did you have much success?" Astrid chewed her lip. Beside her, Stormfly nosed for attention; Astrid complied immediately, finding the repetitive motion of stroking the dragon's scales somewhat soothing.

Fishlegs sighed before responding. "Four out of seven," he said finally. "Dunbar, Johnstone, Elliot, Scott."

"The Kennedys were indifferent, and the Stewarts and Kerrs are in Sutherland's pocket, so we didn't waste time there," Snotlout said, undoing straps on Hookfang's back to release his packs. The Nightmare huffed impatiently. "Alright, **_fanaidh balaichean_**, I’ll be done in a second.”

Astrid laughed softly at the interaction between the pair. Clan Gordon had been welcoming and gracious hosts, but it wasn’t the same as having her own friends to talk to.

“We found Artair,” Fishlegs said quietly, interrupting her thoughts.

“What?” Astrid spun on her heel to look at Snotlout, who was smiling unabashedly as he released the last of Hookfang’s buckles.

“We found him,” Snotlout repeated, looking up at her. “He’s okay, he managed to slip away before Dad got to him. He made it to the Elliots, and they took him in.”

“Oh, Snot…” Astrid felt tears welling up.

“He was so happy to see me, too,” Snotlout said, moving back to join them. “I didn’t think after all this time… but he did, he still wanted to see me…”

“They were like lovesick teenagers,” Fishlegs smiled. “We’re lucky the twins weren’t there, or Ruff would never let you hear the end of it.”

“I’m so happy for you, Snot,” Astrid said, moving forward to take him in a hug. “And I’m glad Artair is okay, too.”

“Maybe once this is all over, he can come live with us at home,” Fishlegs said.

“I’d like that,” Astrid said, releasing Snotlout and holding him at arms’ length. “I’d love to meet him.”

Snotlout’s eyes brimmed with tears, and as he stepped back to wipe them away, Astrid felt a warmth blossom in her chest that had been missing for weeks.

“How’s Hiccup doing?”

Fishlegs’ earnest question knocked the smile right off her face. She swallowed to clear the newly-formed lump in her throat before replying.

“No change since you left,” she managed. “The swelling’s gone right down, and there’s no sign of infection. The doctor thinks he has a good chance of making it.”

“But he’s still not awake?” 

The subdued emotion in Snotlout’s voice was the hardest to hear. “No,” she said, fighting off fresh tears. “No, he’s still not awake.”

“Astrid?”

Valka’s voice came from behind her; she took a second to wipe her eyes before turning around to face her. 

“I’m sorry to bother you so shortly after your friends have returned, but our scouts have spotted Clan Sutherland’s colours advancing from the north.”

“What?” Fishlegs’ disbelief echoed around the courtyard.

“I’m afraid so, Fishlegs. It was only a matter of time before we were ‘paid a visit’.”

“_The bastards_,” Snotlout swore. “Let me at them-”

“Violence is not the answer, young Jorgenson,” Valka counselled. “It’s not the direction you’ve been given by your Chief, and until you get further instructions from him-” Her voice caught on the last word, and she took a second to compose herself. “Until he is awake and competent again, we follow his standing orders. The dragons need to be protected. Violence is not a means to that end.”

“How long do we have?” Fishlegs asked.

“They’ll be here in a couple of hours if their current pace holds.”

Astrid’s eyes widened in shock. “This lot have only just got back, you don’t think-?”

“No, I think the Sutherlands will have been unable to see the dragons, what with the opposing directions of travel. The mountains round here give good cover, so we should be able to hide the dragons from view if we move them now, and quickly.”

Astrid nodded agreement. The next valley over from Huntly Castle to the south-west was rocky and treacherous to navigate on foot, and so it served as a good shelter for the dragons when visitors that weren’t in the know came to call.

“We’ll get them going over, I can marshall them all and get Stormfly to lead them, we can defend them while the Sutherlands are here-”

Valka shook her head. “I need you here,” she said. “In the hall, as another pair of strategic eyes. You have a knack for it - and what’s more, you have the right to be there. For- for Hiccup.”

The lump in Astrid’s throat had returned. She tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words. In the end, she settled for a nod.

“Then you’d better get upstairs, lass. We can’t have you parading around in Clan Haddock tartan in front of them and still expect to retain the element of surprise, now, can we?” Valka’s eyes twinkled with the hint of a joke.

It was this sudden joviality that gave Astrid the confidence to go upstairs to the little room she’d shared briefly with Ruffnut and, for the first time in weeks, remove Hiccup’s sash from around her shoulders, watching sadly as the material fell onto the bed linen.

* * *

“Morogh Cheyne, envoy for Malcolm, Earl and Chief of Clan Sutherland.”

The herald’s words echoed around the great hall, but were quickly drowned out by the clacking of Cheyne’s heels against the stone floor as he strode purposefully towards the dais at the far end. Astrid watched from her position in the corner of the hall, shifting her gaze from the approaching clansman to Valka straightening slightly in her seat.

Cheyne stopped short of the dais on which Valka’s chair rested, but did not sink into the customary bow. Instead, he titled his head to the side slightly and laughed icily.

“Forgive me, I believed this audience would be with Chief Gordon, not his… wife.”

“_**Tha e na urram agus na urram dhut a bhith a ’bruidhinn ris an fheadhainn as Urramach, Valka, Ceannard Chlann Ghòrdain agus Marcais Huntly, ann fhèin**_,” the herald said.

“Forgive me, your Gaelic is heavily accented and difficult to understand,” Cheyne said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Would it be possible to-”

“You have the honour and privilege of addressing The Most Honourable Valka, Chieftainess of Clan Gordon and Marchionness of Huntly, in her own right,” the herald replied in quick English.

“_In her own right_, eh?” Cheyne repeated, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “How quaint.”

“I trust your journey was pleasant, Mr Cheyne,” Valka said, ignoring the jibe. “What is the message you wish to convey to us from your Lord and Chieftain?”

“I bring greetings from my Lord and Chieftain for Clan Gordon, Mistress-”

“You may address our Chief as _My Lady_ or _Lady Huntly_,” the herald snapped. 

“-and I offer our support, in whatever capacity your Clan may require of us.”

“What a generous offer,” Valka replied, her voice carefully even. “Please convey our condolences regarding the death of your late Chief, particularly to his son. It is painful to lose a parent.”

“I will relay your message,” Cheyne said. “I trust all is well here at Huntly Castle? Everything running smoothly?”

“Forgive me for being abrupt, but we have other business we must complete before the sun sets today,” Valka said. “Would you mind getting to the point of your visit?”

Cheyne snorted. “They did say you were brusque. Very well, if you insist.” He drew himself up to his full height. “There is clearly one business that concerns every clan in Scotland at the present - that is, the sad business of filling the empty Seventh after Selkirk’s sudden and tragic demise.”

Astrid stiffened, drawing a sharp breath. 

“Surely it would be better to wait until Selkirk’s death is confirmed before we make such a monumental change to our leadership?”

“Clan Sutherland can confirm beyond doubt that Selkirk has passed away-”

“Where is this proof?” Valka’s eyes were hard, scrupulous. Astrid watched her fingers briefly grasp tighter at the arms of the chair. “Forgive me, sir, but we simply cannot take your word for it alone. Myself, and many other chieftains, would like to see the confirmation before we can officially acknowledge the loss of Selkirk and his Clan.”

“Well, obviously, we would prefer that this information would be shared only as far is pertinent-”

“I think it is rather pertinent to all the clans. Particularly those you seek to win votes from for Clan Ogilvie’s confirmation for Selkirk’s empty seat.” 

“I’m glad you brought that up, Lady Huntly,” Cheyne said, grasping too eagerly at the change in subject. “We feel that Clan Ogilvie, and Lord Airlie most specifically, would be the best fit for the unfortunate gap that has opened.”

“Ogilvie.” Valka pretended to consider this. “Well, I suppose he isn’t entirely incompetent. But surely mere _competence_ should not be the only requirement for a Seventh Chieftain.”

“Lord Airlie is by far the most qualified to fill the position; his clan is one of the greatest in terms of numbers, and they are geographically quite-”

“How do you think he will do against other nominees to the position?”

Cheyne shifted slightly on his spot. “How do you mean?”

Valka sat back in her chair a little. “Clan Sutherland may have a preference for Selkirk’s replacement, but they can’t guarantee they will win all the votes.”

“I wasn’t aware there would be any competition.”

“Who do you suppose the Sinclairs were preparing to nominate to the open seat?”

“I wasn’t aware the Sinclairs had made such a nomination.” Cheyne was starting to look quite uncomfortable. “In fact, they’ve been unusually quiet recently.”

“That doesn’t mean that they have been doing nothing. Who do you think they came up with for their nominee?”

“Well, I suppose Clan Fraser might be angling for it, or perhaps Clan MacDonald, their chieftain is an impressive man-”

“Clan Gordon never came up in your discussions, then?”

Astrid watched with smug satisfaction as the colour drained from Cheyne’s face.

“Y- _You_ are Sinclair’s nominee?” he stammered.

Valka gave a shrug with an air of indifference. “Clan Gordon is one of the largest, and we have positive relationships with many of the unallied clans. It would be sensible to see such a clan take the Seventh, no?”

Cheyne laughed disbelievingly. “The clans will never accept you as a Seventh Clan. You think far too highly of yourself.”

“Believe what you will,” Valka said. “I have more power and respect in my clan in one finger than you’ll ever have.”

Cheyne exhaled, before adopting a patronising expression. “Lady Huntly. Let’s move on from impossibilities and discuss actual prospects, shall we? I think you’ve entertained that daydream long enough.”

A cool silence extended across the room. Astrid willed herself to stay still and not sink her fists into the man’s stomach.

“I believe-”

“Even if the Sinclairs had actually chosen you as their nomination, they have yet to formally announce it. So your thoughts on the matter are inherently redundant until that time. We should use our time productively, discuss any further comments about our nomination of Lord Airlie.”

“Fine.” Valka sat more upright and gestured with her hand. “Make your case.”

Cheyne clasped his hands behind his back. "We are asking at this time only for an indication of how your preferences are likely to fall, and if there is anything we can do to persuade you further towards our point of view.”

“So, what I'm hearing is that Clan Sutherland would be accepting of Clan Gordon’s choice to refrain from public opinion until the voting commences?”

“Well, obviously His Lordship would prefer that your support be given well prior, but we are happy to take a nod a few days in advance-”

“You misunderstand, sir,” Valka said, leaning forward in her chair. “What I was asking was whether Clan Sutherland would be willing to commit to all these promises you have made even if our loyalty could not be counted upon? If, say, for example, we had evidence to suggest that everything that you have said to me since the beginning of this conversation had been nothing but meaningless platitudes at best, and deliberate lies at worst?”

Cheyne’s face froze sharply; it was a testament to the man’s quick thinking in how quickly he smoothed over his expression.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, mistress-”

“_Your Ladyship_,” the herald hissed.

“Whatever. In any case, Clan Gordon could never expect to win the Seventh nomination with its leadership as it currently is.”

“And we’re back to this.” Valka’s eyes were steely, holding Cheyne locked in their focus for several seconds.

“Well, I have established everything I need to know to make my decision,” she said. “If I require further information, I shall write to your chief directly. Either way, your presence here is no longer required. You and your party may feed and water your horses, and then I expect to see you all heading back north directly.”

“No hospitality for the envoy from a fellow Chieftain?” Cheyne snarked. “Surely you would not dishonour yourself by failing to give such a basic offering?”

“If I felt it was necessary to give it, I would. In any case, as a Marchioness I do believe I outrank your Chief, so there is little he can do about it, if he feels slighted. Good day, Mr Cheyne.”

Cheyne stiffened, his eyes narrowing at being dismissed so suddenly. Forgoing the customary parting bow, he simply turned on his heel and strode from the hall, his pride the only thing keeping him from hunching his shoulders over in defeat.

As the door swung shut behind him, the remaining people in the hall let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Well done, all,” Valka said from her chair. She met Astrid’s gaze and smiled; clearly exhausted from that emotionally charged confrontation but also seemingly accomplished.

“A well done to you, too, my lady,” Muireall said earnestly. “He was an arrogant **_bod ceann_**, wasn’t he?”

“He also gave away far more than he was intending to,” Astrid said, stepping into the conversation. “They’re desperate to keep the details under wraps. They clearly intend to bribe their way out of further scrutiny.”

“And they’re serious in their likelihood of victory,” Daibhidh noted. "I didn't know the Sinclairs had nominated us, milady."

"That's because they haven't," Astrid interjected. "They've been silent for weeks. No one's seen or heard anyhing from them."

"So you _lied_?" Muireall gasped.

"I made a strategic judgment to lie to see what their reaction would be," Valka replied. "And it worked, didn't it?"

"A good nomination from the Sinclairs could uproot them. The fact that Caithness has all but excommunicated the whole world currently benefits them greatly," Astrid explained. "With James Sinclair absent, Malcolm has the opportunity to build his support base wirhout any oversight or fear of retribution."

"So that means-"

“We’re running out of time,” Valka said softly. “And options. Without Hiccup to return to his seat, the fight over the Seventh could get very ugly, very quickly.”

“He’ll wake up,” Astrid insisted. Everyone looked at her with a range of expressions, ranging from pity to hope. She clenched her fists. “He’ll wake up.”

“I hope so, lass,” Valka replied. The lower rim of her eyes shone ever so slightly in the candle light. “I really do.”

Someone shuffled, and Valka’s gaze broke away to the rest of the room. “Thank you, all. I believe I’ve kept you from your duties long enough. We’ll discuss this again over dinner once everyone has had some time to think.”

As the Gordons began to dissipate, Valka turned to Astrid and pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “I couldn’t have done that without you.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” Astrid replied.

“You were there. You have a good eye. And…” Valka stepped back. “I know Hiccup wouldn’t want anyone else there in his stead.”

A lump sat in Astrid’s throat and refused to move.

“I saw him this morning,” Valka said. “He seemed a little healthier, had some more colour in his cheeks.

“You think?” Astrid couldn’t keep the hope out of her voice.

Valka’s lips pursed. “I’m sure of it, lass. I’m sure your presence there would expedite the process further.”

“But don’t you need me to-?”

Valka shook her head. “You do more than enough, Astrid. You’re doing everything you can for other people and it’s admirable. Take some time for yourself. I insist.”

Astrid nodded. “Thank you."

* * *

  
The door got her every time. 

It wasn’t particularly big, or imposing, or beautifully designed. But each time she approached the little room and the man who lay still inside it, the door stood there as a physical representation of all the barriers between her and Hiccup. No matter how closely she sat to him, no matter how many times she pressed her lips against his forehead and begged him to come back, he still was still further away than she could reach. 

She paused with her palms pressed against the cool oak for a few more seconds, her forehead dropping to join them briefly, before pushing them open and entering the warm room.

Toothless rose to great her immediately. The dragon had barely left Hiccup’s side since he’d collapsed in the hall and been taken to the doctor. This room was not the easiest to keep warm nor the most convenient for attending to, but it was the only room with windows big enough for the dragon to fit through and it was preferable to him breaking panes of glass to get to Hiccup. 

It was comforting to Astrid to feel the warmth of dragon scales under her fingertips, and she spent her time giving Toothless a proper greeting. It hadn’t been long since she’d last been up to visit them - she’d been there the previous night until her eyes could not stay open any longer - but even so, she felt a hole in her heart whenever she was forced to leave Hiccup’s side to tend to the business of preparing to avoid a war - and also planning one, just in case it came to that.

Valka had been right - there was a little more colour in his cheeks than there had been when she’d left for bed last night. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she carefully adjusted his blankets to make sure he didn’t get too hot.

“I’m glad to see you looking better,” she said.

She brought a hand up to his face and gently smoothed his bangs off his forehead. “You’re probably going to want a haircut if you keep this up much longer,” she smiled. “Although, I have to admit that I wouldn’t mind it. You do look rather dashing with your hair this length. You look more like old Hiccup."

His eyes stayed closed.

“I miss you,” she whispered, moving her hand to cup his cheek and trying not to notice how prominent his bones felt under her fingers. “I really, really miss you.”

Toothless shifted his head onto the bed and moaned softly, nudging at Hiccup’s hand and closing his eyes in defeat when he got no response.

“Please. Open your eyes?” she asked softly.

Nothing changed on his face.

A yawn rose in her chest, and when it had finished, she found her eyelids far heavier than they’d been just a few moments ago. There was a little time until dinner, and it had been quite a big day. No one would miss her for a few hours…

Carefully, she laid her head down next to his hand, interlocking their fingers.

“Just a moment,” she muttered to herself. “I’ll rest my eyes for just a moment…”

* * *

_When I was around six years old, I started asking questions._

_Well, not really. I’d been asking questions all my life. What I mean is that I started asking questions that no one wanted to give me an answer to._

_It started off where you might expect. I knew I didn’t have a mother. But I must have had one at some point. Everyone had. I noted as much to my father._

_“_Everyone has a mother, son_,” he replied while tending to the fire so that we could begin toasting bread over it._

_“_But where did mine go?_” I asked, trying to balance the jam jars on top of each other. “I_ hope she’s happy, wherever she is._”_

_My father sat back on his haunches and exhaled, before pulling me into his embrace. He held me there for a long time before he spoke again._

_“_Are you ready for some toast now, son?_”_

*****

_When I was eight and one-quarter, I helped with the lambing for the first time._

_My father and the other clansmen showed me the right way to help; how to clean my hands, to bring fresh water, to make sure the sheep had enough food nearby for afterwards._

_“_How’d you find that, son?_” he asked as he tucked me into bed that night._

_“_Really fun,_” I said truthfully._ “I didn’t realise how messy it would be, though.”

_He laughed. _“Aye, it’s not for the faint of heart. But you did very well, Hiccup.”

“Is it like that for people, too?” _I asked._ “Do people need lots of help making babies?”

_Under the candlelight, I could only just make out that his cheeks were tinting pink._

“Well… no, son. It’s different for people.”

“How is it different?”

_His arms extended and started patting the covers down around me. _“Ask me when you’re older,” _he said._ “Much older.”

*****

_When I was twelve, I brought my father a cup of tea along with the news in the letter I’d just opened._

“Malcolm says he’s going to get married,” _I smiled._

“Who to, lad?”

“Iona, I think her name is. He says she’s the most wonderful person in the world and that he can’t wait to marry her.”

“I’m pleased for him,” _my father said, sipping at the tea. _“It’s always best to marry for love.”

“Did you get to marry for love, father?” _I asked, slipping the letter back into its envelope. _

_He didn’t reply for a little while, and I raised my gaze inquisitively back up at him._

_He caught my eye and sighed. _“Aye, lad, I did. I was very lucky.”

“What was… what was she like? My mother?”

_One of his hands extended and patted me on the shoulder. _“I hope you get to marry for love, Hiccup. It’s the best feeling in the world. You’ll understand when you’re older. Love like that is cure for almost all of life’s hardships. Almost all of them.” 

_He took the mug and downed the remaining contents in one great gulp before passing it back to me. _“Thanks for the tea, son. I’d best be back to work now.”

*****

_When I was fifteen, my father sat on the floor of my bedroom and held me until my eyes were red and sore, and my nose had filled three handkerchiefs beyond use._

“I miss her.”

“I know, son.”

“I miss her so much.”

_He pulled me tighter into his arms._

“I know, son.”

_I wiped my nose with my already sodden sleeve._

“Does it always hurt to love someone like this?”_ My voice was hoarse, and cracked towards the end. My eyes would have watered again, if I had any tears left to cry._

“Will it always hurt to think of her?” _I wondered aloud._ “Will I wake up every morning and want to see her smile, and feel my heart break all over again? Does it ever get better?”

_Eventually my nose stopped running. My breathing calmed. As we walked downstairs to make dinner, I felt the damp patch on my shoulder just below where my father’s forehead had rested. Neither of us mentioned it._

*****

_When I was twenty-one, I was woken not long before midnight by creaking floorboards in the hallway._

“Everything okay, Dad?” _I asked, sticking my head out of my door. He jumped, and turned towards me._

“Hiccup? Are you alright, son? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“You didn’t,” _I lied. _“You’re back very late.” 

“The Gathering went on far longer than we anticipated. A lot of shouting. Not a lot achieved.” _He rubbed a thumb across his forehead. _“We’re going to have to think about this more carefully. War would be…” _He wobbled a little on the spot, and I strode down the hall towards him._

“Dad?” _My hands grasped his forearm gently, but he shook me off, managing a weak smile._

“I’m alright, son, **_dinna fash_**.”

“You don’t look very well,” _I noted gently._

_“_I’m just tired. A little bit of sleep will do me just fine.”

“You know you can talk to me about it, Dad?” _I reminded him. _“I’ll do your job one day eventually. Let me do some of it now, take some of the burdens off your plate. You don’t have to do it alone.”

_He smiled, and pulled me into a hug. _“I know, son. I know. I just don’t want to burden you with it all so suddenly.”

“Well, maybe you can phase me in slowly. I could do more of the work here at home, for a start, if you let me.”

_He sighed. _“Maybe it’s time to… But I don’t want to worry you-”

“I’ll be fine, Dad, I can handle it.”

“No, that’s not it, son, I-” _He took a step back, hands on my shoulders. _“It’s just… can we talk in the morning? I really need some sleep.”

“Of course, Dad.” _I gave him a brief hug. “_I hope you sleep better tonight.”

“I love you, son.” 

_I didn’t know, as I watched him close his bedroom door, that it would be the last time I would hear him say it._

*****

_I’m twenty-two years old. _

_I’ve loved this woman for more than a third of my life._

_I’ve watched her move away and come back to me._

_I love her even more now._

_I know the answer to my own question. I know now what I didn’t when my heart broke all those years ago._

_It does hurt to think of her. It hurt when she came back even more beautiful than I could have imagined. It hurt when she smiled and laughed and hugged me. But the pain of probably losing her again is even worse than all of that. And that’s how I find myself here, pressing her up against a tree, so nervous of what she might do next that I’m almost shaking._

_My hands cup her face. Despite the cold, I’m desperate to take my gloves off and feel her skin under my fingertips. _

_Her lips are parted. Soft billows of breath escape between them and dance away into the morning light._

_There are snowflakes on her eyelashes. I want to kiss them off as she winds her arms around my neck and pulls me closer against her._

“Will you come with me? Please?”_ My request is barely more than a whisper._

_A few seconds later, I feel the rush down my spine once again as her lips pull anew at my own. Some questions don’t need to be answered with words._

*

_I’m twenty-two years old. I think._

_I have a name. I think._

_Dragons exist. I think._

_The haze moves slowly through my mind, its inconsistencies allowing me to grasp momentarily at a memory or thought before it disappears back into the ether._

_Somewhere, a fire burns briefly before being doused in icy water that holds me paralysed in its grasp. It drags me high into the air, lets me freefall, grasps me just before I hit the floor; a thousand times it does this before leaving me along in the dark._

_At one point, I feel fire under my fingertips. But it’s not the same fire as before. That was hot, white, angry. This is cool, dark, reassuring. This feels like home - until it too is lost into the jumble of my mind._

*

_My thoughts slowly begin to orbit round a central point, bumping into each other along the way. Memories from more than one life overlap and bring some context to where I am. Who I am._

Hiccup.

_Her voice reverberates around in the space, and my thoughts coalesce a little tighter._

Hiccup.

_I know who I am._

**Hiccup.**

_I know my memories. I know my lives._

“…Hiccup…”

_I know my past. I do not fear my future._

**Half of Me…**

_I have them. I love them._

“Hiccup.”

_I know what I’m facing when I wake. It doesn’t scare me._

“Hiccup.”

**Half of Me…**

“…open your eyes.”

_I do._

* * *

There were two different textures on both of his palms. One cold but soft; the other leathery and warm. But they were both familiar and calming. They both brought a smile to his lips as he mustered the strength to open his eyes.

The room was small, but with two large doors that opened out onto a balcony, through which he could see the first light of dawn breaking across a cloudless sky above the mountains. He smiled. _Scotland is being kind today,_ he remarked to himself. _Welcoming me back without rain._

The small chuckle roused one of the feelings under his hand, the leathery feeling disappearing and two green eyes appearing in his peripheral vision.

“Hey, bud,” he whispered. “It’s good to see you.”

The dragon leaped up in joy and began prancing around the room. _Half of Me is back! he crowed. Half of me is okay! Happy, happy!_

“Shhhh, don’t wake Astrid!” he called earnestly, coughing a little at his attempt to sit up.

_Sorry, sorry._ Toothless trotted back over towards the bed and nosed his arm gently. _How are you?_

“Honestly, I’d have preferred not to lose the leg this time, but apparently fate is enjoying fucking with me some more.” Hiccup raised his head from the pillow and looked down towards where his lower left leg had been. It was simultaneously the weirdest discomfort and the most normal feeling he had ever felt. He hoped it would subside soon.

_I missed you._ Toothless’ ears drooped. _I didn’t like it either time. I like happy Half of Me._

“I’ll be alright, bud,” Hiccup smiled, reaching towards him. “We’ve got far too many things to do for me to take too much of a holiday with this.”

_Holiday?_

“A rest,” he clarified. 

_But you need rest. Losing a paw is hard._

“We managed before, didn’t we?” Hiccup smiled. “We’re all much more in the know this time. And it helps that medicine has progressed a thousand or so years.”

_Medicine? Holiday? Half of me uses strange words._

Hiccup chuckled. “That’s language for you, bud.”

Underneath his other hand, Astrid turned her head over in her sleep, facing up towards him. Her forehead was crinkled with worry lines that he instinctively reached out to smooth over them. She shifted, and he saw a glimpse of silver around her neck. Carefully, he moved her hair over her shoulder until he could make out a thistle and a **_linnea_** resting near her chin on the bed.

A warm smile broke out across his lips.

_I will get Cloudjumper and Valka,_ Toothless said to him, breaking his spell. _They worry. They don’t need to worry._

“Thanks bud.” Hiccup stretched out his other hand and placed it on the dragon’s nose for a few seconds. Toothless smiled and nudged it closer before turning and taking off into the morning.

Shuffling his head back round, he moved his hand so that he could start dragging his fingers through Astrid’s hair. Her braid had come loose in the night and now most of her hair dangled freely down her back, and he took time in smoothing it down, careful not to pull on any knots that had been formed. He quickly settled into the repetition of it, enjoying the silence and in having her so close.

So deeply engrossed he was in his task that a deep breath was the only warning he got before her eyes started blinking open and her head lifted up off the bed.

It took a second for her gaze to focus. He saw the exact moment when it struck her.

“Hiccup?” Her voice was raspy and broken and sounded like she's been crying for hours, but to Hiccup it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Hi,” he breathed. “I missed you.”

She flung herself up towards him, arms slinging around his neck and chest resting heavily on his. He gasped a little, before chuckling and raising his hands.

“I missed you so much,” she said, sniffing. “I thought it would be easier, because I’ve done it before, but it was so much harder than I remembered, you’ve been asleep for so long…” She buried her face in his neck; he felt the warmth of her tears against his skin.

“I’m sorry I did this to you again,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as he could manage. “But I’m back now. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

She shifted back a little in his embrace, her lips messily searching for his until she captured them in a gentle but purposeful kiss. It was all he could do to lie there and try and keep up with her.

After what felt like blissful eternity, she pulled back and smiled at him.

“I love you so much, you muttonhead,” she laughed through her tears. “You know that?”

He took one her hands from his chest and pressed it to his mouth. “Always, milady,” he promised. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sprints to the deadline and writes 2,000 words in one day*  
*collapses in a heap*  
*rewatches the newest episode of favourite tv show for the third time*
> 
> thanks for reading! hope you are all happy and well <3
> 
> minty xoxo


	21. and so it goes

**JULY 1908**   
**Huntly Castle, the Cairngorms, Scottish Highlands**

“Three more steps…”

“Come on, Hiccup, you can do it!”

_Go, Half of Me! _

“That’s it! Well done!”

Hiccup released all the air he’d been holding and sank gratefully onto the stone bench. He’d long since lost count of the laps he and Astrid had walked round the courtyard, but he was determined to get back to walking on his own as quickly as possible - and the only way to do that was to recover all the strength he’d lost in his muscles while he’d been unconscious.

As he sat on the edge of the bench and tried to get his breath back, he looked round at the others in an effort to distract himself from the soreness at the end of his stump and all up his leg. They’d all been with him, dragons and humans alike, every time he’d so much as set foot outside of the castle in the last two weeks, surrounding his every step but never crowding him. They were simply quiet, reassuring presences, offering only what he needed and asking nothing of him in return.

He didn’t think he’d ever truly be able to express his gratitude to them for what they’d done.

The twins had, predictably, fallen asleep in the sun with their dragons not five minutes after settling in the courtyard; Snotlout, Hookfang and Meatlug had joined them soon after. Toothless and Stormfly were the most active, and generally took the time to take to the sky stretch their wings, Toothless checking in with him periodically as they danced around the valley together. Hiccup used their antics as an excuse for a breather as he and Astrid walked slowly round the cobbles arm in arm.

“How are you feeling?” Astrid asked him as he caught his breath on the bench. One of her hands came to rest between his shoulder blades, rubbing gently, and he leaned into the touch for a few seconds before replying.

“I’ve done this before,” he muttered as the throbbing below his knee calmed a little. “I should be getting better faster than this. It’s not going fast enough.”

Astrid gave an exasperated sigh. “You-” she poked his forehead. “_You_ might have done this before, but this-” She prodded his shoulder gently. “This body hasn’t. Be gentle with yourself.” 

“She’s right, Hiccup,” Ruffnut said, who looked up from where she was leant against Barf’s neck and rubbed her eyes. “Don’t push yourself too quickly.”

“Do you want me to get the doctor?” Fishlegs asked earnestly from his other side. “I could see if she could adjust the prosthetic for you, make it fit better…?”

Hiccup waved a hand, encouraging Fishlegs to sit back down. “No, it fits well. I just… I want to be up and about _now_. I’m tired of being immobile.” 

He felt Astrid’s fingers reaching into his hair and smiled, leaning into her touch.

“I know,” he heard her say. “But you’re doing really well already. Don’t forget that.”

He nodded for a few seconds, before shifting his weight to the edge of the bench. “Again,” he said, making to push up on his hands.

Immediately, he felt Astrid’s palm cover his knuckles. “Hiccup,” she said gently.

He looked up at her, and the concern painted across her face made him halt in his motions. 

“You were comatose barely two weeks ago,” she said gently.

“And the gathering is barely ten days away,” he replied. “I _have_ to be able to walk around for it. No one will take me seriously if I have to use a crutch.”

“People will understand, Hiccup,” Fishlegs interjected. “You’ve lost half a limb, for crying out loud; you should still be in bed, really.”

Hiccup opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Stormfly and Toothless loudly clattering to a halt on the cobblestones, waking Snotlout and Hookfang in the process. The large dragon scowled at his friends before snorting and settling down once more.

_Half of Me is angry-sad?_ Toothless asked, nosing over to Hiccup earnestly. 

“I’m alright, bud,” Hiccup promised, reaching out to fuss the dragon around his ears. “I’m just a little frustrated.”

_Want to fly? Flying with Half of Me makes me happy_. Toothless’ tongue lolled out to the side, and Hiccup smiled.

“I’d love to, but I think Astrid would string me up by my ankle if I tried to go flying right now,” he chuckled. He looked across to her, expecting to see her death glare, but instead found her deep in thought. “What?” he asked.

She bit her lip before responding. “I’m thinking… maybe it’s not actually that bad of an idea-”

Hiccup and Toothless perked up simultaneously. “Really?”

“But on the condition that at least one of us goes with you, and we come down straight away if your leg hurts too much,” she finished.

“I promise,” he said immediately.

“Actually, why don’t we all go up together?” she smiled, looking round at Fishlegs and Snotlout, then down at the twins. “We haven’t really flown together yet.”

“We flew all the way from Berk together,” Snotlout pointed out.

“But that wasn’t for _fun_ though,” Ruffnut said, standing up and stretching her arms above her head. “We haven’t done this in ages.” Her foot reached out and poked her brother in the stomach. “Oi, _**cacan**_. Get up, we’re going flying.”

“What?”

“I think we probably ought to put some more layers on first, though,” Hiccup suggested, reaching his arm out to Astrid to help him stand up. “It might be June, but it’s still Scotland.”

“Well it’s not raining right now, that’s gift enough,” Fishlegs laughed as they started wandering back towards the entrance of the castle. 

“Oh, don’t tempt fate, Fishlegs,” Astrid laughed. “Now you’ve done it!”

“Yeah, three bloody days of sunshine is all we get all year, don’t jinx it further,” Snotlout muttered to general amusement.

The group maintained a light banter about the weather into the castle and up the main staircase, the group slowing to allow Hiccup time to take the stairs as gently as he needed. As they cleared the final step, a clatter of feet came up the stones behind them - someone clearly in a rush.

“Hiccup!”

His mother’s voice sounded behind him; as quickly as was possible, he and Astrid turned on the spot to face her.

“What is it?” he asked as she drew level.

“We finally heard from the Sinclairs,” she replied, holding out a letter to him.

Carefully, allowing Astrid to take more of his weight, he reached out and took the folded parchment from her. As he turned it over in his hands, the name on the front stopped him short.

** _Diùc Selkirk_ **   
** _Caisteal Huntly_ **

“It’s… it’s addressed to me,” he said, incredulously.

“What?” 

“But- but- I thought all the clans thought you were dead,” Snotlout said. “How-?”

“You said you trusted the Sinclairs,” Valka said, slightly defensively. “When we couldn’t get a response from them, we used your name.” She looked briefly at Astrid, who nodded her support. It had been one of the many decisions she’d been forced to make while he’d been recovering from the amputation. “And we finally got a reply back.”

Hiccup quickly opened the envelope and unfolded the paper inside. The handwriting was familiar - but something was off about it. The contents soon gave context to it. With each line, he felt more colour drain from his face. The additional note on the end written in a less familiar pen confirmed his worst fears.

“What is it?” Fishlegs asked. “Hiccup?”

“What’s going on?” 

“Son?”

“Hiccup?” He felt Astrid’s fingers brush across his forehead, and tilted his face to look at her.

“It’s James,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “He… he’s dying.”

* * *

“…I just don’t think that it’s feasible-”

“Well, what else can we do about it?”

“Have we considered that the best course of action might be-?”

“We’ve talked about it before, you know why it won’t-”

“- that’s ridiculous, and you ken it-”

“- the Sinclairs would never agree to that!”

“Well, I don’t see any other options, do you?”

“- get off your high horse, you **_clag deireadh_**.”

Finally, Valka stood and slammed her palm on the table.

“**_Clann Ghòrdain! Gabh air do shocair!_**” _Clan Gordon! Calm yourselves!_

The room span to a cacophonous halt, and all eyes turned to the Gordon Chieftainess.

Valka looked round at the assembled clan. “There is no need for childish name calling. It doesn’t solve anything, and it just leads to animosity. Get a hold of yourselves and behave like the adults you’re s’posed to be.”

A few clansmen shuffled and looked down at their feet in shame. 

“Astrid, do you have anything to comment on Mhairi’s suggestion?” she asked, referring to the spark of this most recent disagreement within the room.

Astrid sighed and looked down at the map once more. She toyed with her words for a few more seconds before sighing.

“It almost doesn’t matter whether the Sinclairs are willing to help or not. Changing the plan at this stage and confusing our allies might be worse than not having them.”

“But we _need_ them, don’t you see?” Daibhidh called across the table. “They’re the largest, most powerful clan. Even just having them on side could tip the balance in our favour.”

Astrid shook her head. “So what, we drag their ailing chief almost two hundred miles south to just sit there and be a pretty ornament to our plans and hope he doesn’t die before we need him? Do you realise how awful that sounds?”

“That was absolutely _not_ what I was suggesting, Mistress Hofferson, and you ken it-”

“We just… we would have thought you of all people would be most keen to see the Sutherlands and the rest brought to justice after what they did to Chief Hugh,” Mhairi interjected calmly. “And yet you’re saying we should just give up so close to the goal? After all the time and effort we’ve put in to getting your husband assured in his place?”

“He’s not my- look.” Astrid sighed and gripped the table in front of her. “Myself and all the members of Clan Haddock here are grateful for the hospitality you’ve given us, but we’ve never made any demands of you. We would never hold it against you if you chose to step back. But you’re part of this because you know why we need to do it. Because you know, each and every one of you, inside yourselves, that you cannot live with doing anything less than what is just and right. _That’s_ why we’re doing this. That’s why we chose this fight.”

“Be that as it may, Mistress, Clan Haddock are still the ones benefiting here,” Daibhidh pointed out. “If we do this and get Chief Hugh restored, you’re the ones that get all the credit, about the dragons and everything, and Clan Gordon gets nothing from it. It’s our resources that are going into this, it’s _our_ clansmen who have been trotting all over the country on these errands. I just think you ought to be more grateful about what we’re helping you achieve, or else-”

“Do you want the job?” Hiccup called from her left side, cutting the man off. He tilted his head inquisitively. “Do you want the job? I’d give it to you. You have no idea what you’re- it’s not just a fancy title or an honour to boast about. It’s a lot of bloody hard work. I spent twenty years watching it kill my father. It nearly got me and my clansmen killed. But you want to change places? Put your family in harm’s way for a bit of power? Is that what you really want?”

Daibhidh shrunk into himself and shook his head. The rest of the room shifted uncomfortably at Hiccup’s words as he sank back into his chair.

“If we could get back to the business at hand, then?”

Astrid felt everyone’s eyes land on her, but continued unabashed, gesturing down at the map on the table. “The gathering is only ten days away. That means we have only ten days to reaffirm our alliances and establish ourselves at Blair Atholl. We need to get fresh word out to the clans we already have on side that we remain committed to our goals, now more than ever.”

“But James-”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can count on the Sinclairs for help, son,” Valka said, cutting Hiccup off. “Their Chief is ill and dying, and while they are a moralistic and loyal clan, I don’t think we should count on their backing at a time like this.”

“So where does that leave us for the gathering?” Fishlegs asked, stepping in from Astrid’s right. “How can we do this without the Sinclairs?”

“We aren’t ruling them out all together-” Astrid began.

“We’ll need to make measures to work around their absence-,” Valka said at the same time. 

The two women looked at each other. 

Valka sighed. “In an ideal world, James Sinclair will be there to stand as our ally, aye? To give his word that the story we’re telling is the truth, and not just political infighting or a power play on our part? We can still do that, with the clans we’ve already convinced. Maybe we could get the Sinclairs to write a letter of support-”

“There’s no time for that, we’d risk it not getting here fast enough,” Mhairi commented.

“Then maybe we should reconsider having our Chief sit as their representative in their absence. She could act as their mouthpiece, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind-”

“Not this again.” Valka buried her head in her hands.

“No, think about it!” Daibhidh cried. “We’d definitely get what we wanted then.”

“We’d also just as easily piss off pretty much all of our allies by disrespecting one of the most powerful men and clans in the Highlands-”

“Well, I don’t see you coming up with any better suggestions-”

“Oh, like it’s _my_ job to fix this problem? Why don’t you pull your arse out and…?”

Astrid sighed and rubbed her hands on her temple as the fighting broke out again. This conversation was becoming awfully circular, in a manner they didn’t really have time to indulge.

It was going to be a long evening.

* * *

The conversations echoed around him, all trivial, all nonsensical. What did it matter how exactly the gathering went down? Did no one care that one of his friends was dying? Were they prepared to reduce an old man to a piece on a chess board, just one small part of a grand strategy?

His injury was fatiguing him, leaving Astrid to bear the burden of conversation on their behalf as they tried to reach a solution. He could see the lines on her face, the way her fingers pressed firmly into her forehead as she tried to stay calm. It irked him to no end that people were okay with upsetting her like this. The Gordons knew what they’d all suffered through to get to this moment. Did they not care about all of that? Was this frustration simply concealing a desire to uproot them all once more? Could they really trust anyone?

It was wrong. It was all wrong. 

“I want to go to Caithness.”

And it came out suddenly, barely more than a whisper, and was quickly lost in the chatter that echoed around the stone hall. It took him a second to process what he’d said, but then he realised how much he’d meant it. Slowly, he sat up straighter and tried again.

“I want to go to Caithness,” he said again, louder, his voice echoing round the small war room.

The conversation largely stopped. He heard his mother sigh from across the table.

“Hiccup, I know you mean well, but I really don’t think you’re in any shape to travel on foot. In any case, there isn’t time for you to get there and back before the gathering-”

“I can fly,” Hiccup replied. “Me and Toothless, we can fly there, it’ll take maybe half a day if we fly directly-”

“You are in no shape to fly anywhere,” Valka interjected. “You’re barely up from your sickbed, you can’t expect to fly that sort of distance as you are - and what about the Sinclairs? They’ve made no offer of welcome to you, you can hardly just show up-”

“He’s my friend,” Hiccup pleaded. “At the very least. And it’s probably my last chance to see him.” 

A sombre silence fell across the room as the final muttered conversations slowly ground to a halt. All around him, the Gordons looked on with a mix of pity, disbelief, incredulity. He was preparing to open his mouth and defend himself, when he felt Astrid’s hand slide into his, and he looked up to find her face set, determined.

“Then we’ll go,” she said, squeezing his hand. “And that’s the end of it.” She looked round the room, making contact with everyone present, daring them to contradict what she’d said with such finality.

No one argued with her. No one had the courage to.

* * *

**Scottish Highlands**

His mother’s words of concern continued floating around his head hours later, spinning around and around as they flew in silence through the night above the North Sea. To minimise the risk of being spotted from the ground, they’d decided to fly under the cover of darkness and also to avoid land as far as possible. But no matter which way they went, there were two inescapable and nerve-wracking points in their journey north - almost as soon as they took off, with the Elgins directly to the north of the Gordons’ land, and then again as they made their descent to Castle Sinclair Girnigoe, skirting the border they shared with the Sutherlands to the west.

They were coming up on the final part now.

To his left, Astrid nudged Stormfly down to level with Hiccup and Toothless as the North Sea rippled far below them.

“How’s your leg feeling?” she asked in place of a greeting.

“Stiff and sore,” he admitted. “At least I don’t need to operate Toothless’ tail fin as well this time. Makes it a little easier.”

Toothless mumbled his agreement and shook his wings out a little.

“I think your mother would have strapped you down and refused to let you fly at all if you’d had to do that too,” Astrid said. 

“Oh, don’t even start,” Hiccup replied, rolling his eyes. “I know she feels like she has twenty years of my life to make up, but I am not a child! I know how to fly a dragon!”

“She’s just worried, Hiccup - and can you blame her? We’re making a big journey, you’ve barely been out of bed two weeks, and we’re getting about as close to enemy territory as we can.”

“We’ll be fine,” he said immediately. “We just need to make sure we’re far enough to the east, and then we’ll see the lights from Wick… there!”

On the horizon in front of them, a warm glow from the gas lamps in Wick suddenly burst into view. The small town was a beacon to them, guiding their way in.

“We’ll land just to the east of the town; there’s a woods a couple of miles before the castle where we can hide the dragons. The Sinclairs are friendly, but I think it should be one surprise at a time. Mythical creatures on top of the sudden arrival of the thought-to-be-dead Chieftain might be a bit much for them.”

Astrid laughed. “I agree. We’ll follow you down.”

The land was all black beneath them in the night, the light of the moon obscured by thick clouds above, and so Hiccup was relying largely on memory from the ground to guide them in the right direction.

_It was right around here somewhere…_ he thought to himself. _Somewhere…_

“There!” he cried, pointing at the clearing below. “Head down there!”

_Down we go, Half of Me. Hold on._

Toothless pumped his wings one last time, before turning and falling over his left wing in a manner that Astrid probably did not approve of. Hiccup didn’t care. The adrenaline of watching the ground race up beneath them, knowing he was completely safe in his friend’s care, was the most exhilarating thing that had happened to him in weeks.

The two were still celebrating their success when Astrid and Stormfly touched down. Despite the low light, Hiccup could have sworn he saw her rolling her eyes as she jumped off the dragon’s back.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he began preemptively. “But I’m absolutely fine, feel better than I have done in ages-”

“Hiccup-” she sighed.

“No, seriously, Astrid, I’m doing really well-”

“Hiccup.” Astrid’s hand flew over his mouth without warning, and she yanked him backwards out of the clearing and into the shadows, pressing his back into the tree as she leaned round to observe. Beside them, the dragons perked up and then sank into defensive positions.

“Astrid, what-?” he tried, shoving her hand away from her mouth, but she moved it back up instantly and threw a look at him that he immediately grasped. 

He nodded his head, and she slowly withdrew her hand from his mouth again.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“Stormfly heard someone,” she replied equally as quietly. The words, and their higher meaning, took a second for him to process. He felt his jaw drop

“Wait, you… You too?” he asked. She nodded and mouthed _later_, before pressing a finger to her lips.

Slowly, as gently as they could, they slid Hiccup’s back down the tree until he was sat at its base.

_Two men, don’t recognise._ Toothless’ voice sounded in his head. _Will protect you, Half of Me._

A twig snapped across the clearing, and the four of them froze. Hiccup counted three rapid heartbeats before he heard them speak.

_“…so tired.”_

_“Well, you know what not to do next time to get us stuck on shitty missions like this, then, don’t you?”_

_“I was only trying to tell the Chief that I thought the extra defence measures was unnecessary. I was just trying to save us some night shifts, I didn’t expect him to flip out like that.”_

_“Whatever. We’re here now, aren’t we? Let’s just… get to the Castle before daybreak, then maybe we can get some useful information before they expect us back.”_

_“I’m telling you, I knew he was going to be like this as Chief. His father might have been more sadistic, but he’s straight up _evil_, I tell you.”_

_“Well, you know the going rumour is that he was the one that murdered Selkirk-”_

_“Seriously?”_

_“Oh yeah. Throttled him in his sleep, so I heard.”_

_“Fuck me.”_

Two figures broke into the clearing barely a hundred metres to their left. Hiccup felt all four of them cease breathing.

One of the men stopped and dropped to his knees. _“This looks like a good place for a rest.”_

His companion sighed. _“Seriously, Baldie?”_

_“We’ve been walking all fucking night, give me a break, alright?”_

_“Fine. Five minutes.”_

_“How are you going to time that, you don’t even have a pocketwatch-”_

_“Shut your hole, or I’ll dump this entire bottle of water on you, I swear…”_

_“Chief wouldn’t like you wasting resources.”_

_“Try and be a smart arse with me again and I’ll drop you in it when we get back, I mean it.”_

_“I know far more hiding places in Dunrobin than you do, I’d like to see you try.”_

Hiccup shifted his gaze across to Astrid, who was looking slightly quizzical.

_Allies?_ She mouthed.

He shook his head. _Sutherlands._

He watched her jaw set and her fingers close slowly around the handle of the small revolver Mhairi had given them just before they’d left Huntly earlier that night. “Just in case,” she’d said, pressing it into Astrid’s hand before darting back into the castle. The secrecy was necessary - Valka would have thrown a fit had she known that some of her clan kept weapons against her orders.

Hiccup stretched an arm out and placed his hand over Astrid’s on the gun, shaking his head. _I have a better idea_ he mouthed.

_Toothless?_

_What is it, Half of Me?_

_Could you do a growl? Like you might be a bear?_

_Bear?_

_Big scary furry thing. Will make the men run away from here._

Toothless’s green eyes shone with a hint of mischeviousness despite the darkness. _I know, I can do._ Then he slunk away into the bushes.

Astrid tapped him on the arm, and he looked across at her. _What’s he doing?_

_Creating a diversion._

A short distance to their right, a low grumble came from deep in the foliage.

The men in the clearing stopped their bickering instantly.

_“What the fuck was that?”_

_“Probably just the wind, dinna fash-”_

Toothless’ growl came louder this time, accompanied by a few snapped bushes for effect.

_“That’s a bear.”_ One of the men jumped to his feet. _“I heard it, I swear-”_

Stormfly quickly joined the game, stamping her feet on the ground to mimic the sound of an approaching bear.

_“A bear? What the fu- run! Run, you idiot!”_

_“Fuck!”_

Hiccup just managed to hold his laughter in until the men's hurried footsteps had disappeared from earshot.

“Oh my- I can’t believe they fell for that!” he gasped. “That was amazing.”

“Shhh, shhh, they might still hear us!” But Astrid’s warning was half-hearted, and as she pulled him to his feet, he could see the smile stretched across her face too.

He couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing it right off her.

* * *

**Castle Sinclair Girnigoe, Caithness**

They’d managed to find a natural cave by a stream in which to conceal the dragons, with the promise that they’d be back to check on them and bring them to the castle as soon as it was safe to do so. Astrid could feel Stormfly happily settling down for a nap as she and Hiccup slowly walked the last few hundred metres towards the castle. The feeling of having someone else in her head was peculiar, but far from unwelcome, and she felt so lucky to be able to share that unique connection with her friend. It was also nice to keep her thoughts away from the weight of their supplies on her back and the sheer exhaustion that was plaguing her ever step. Between planning the upcoming gathering and worrying about Hiccup, she hadn’t slept fitfully in weeks.

Beside her, Hiccup squeezed her hand gently, disconnecting her from her thoughts.

“Have you got used to having her in your head yet?” he asked.

She smiled and shook her head. “I don’t know how you manage it. It’s great but it’s…”

“A lot,” he finished, and she nodded in agreement. “I can teach you how to separate the two, make it more of an on-demand thing rather than an open channel, if you’d like?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

They reached the end of the tree line in silence, and Astrid came to a halt as the coastline opened out in front of them. In the distance, the sun had just made it over the horizon, streaking gold and orange and pink through gaps in the clouds above the castle, which sat right on the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Puts our tiny house back home to shame a little, doesn’t it?” Hiccup laughed softly.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. 

Hiccup stepped forward, bringing her hand up and kissing the knuckles quickly. “Come on, let’s head inside. George is an early riser, chances are he’s already up and will see us straightaway.”

It took them less than fifteen minutes to descend through the final fields of grass towards the small portcullis that served as the entrance to the keep, by which time sun had well and truly risen, giving a warmth and a light all around them that seemed a little out of place so far north.

There were two clansmen on guard as they neared the gate, who snapped to attention at their approach.

_“**Fàilte gu Caisteal Mac na Ceàrdaich Girnigoe. Inns d ’ainm agus do ghnìomhachas.**” Welcome to Castle Sinclair Girnigoe. State your name and business._

Hiccup stood forwards and raised a hand in greeting.

_“**Beannachdan, caraidean. Is mise Ùisdean, Ceannard Chlann Haddock agus Diùc Selkirk. Bidh mi a ’sireadh luchd-èisteachd còmhla ri do Cheann-cinnidh, Seumas, Iarla Ghallaibh.**” Greetings, friends. I am Hugh, Chief of Clan Haddock and the Duke of Selkirk. I seek an audience with your Chief, James, Earl of Caithness._

The two guards shared a look, and something in Astrid’s stomach fell.

“**Tha a Thighearnas an t-Iarla tinn gu dona**,” one of the guards said, her voice wavering only a little as she ducked her head in greeting. _“**Tha eagal orm gun tàinig thu dìreach ann an tìde, Do Ghràs.**” His Lordship the Earl is seriously ill. I fear you have arrived just in time, Your Grace._

Astrid grasped Hiccup’s arm as he visibly deflated in front of her, then understood his pain as the Gaelic slowly translated in her head.

“_**Am faic sinn e?**_” she asked clumsily on Hiccup’s behalf. Can we see him?

The guard nodded and stood to one side, gesturing in with one hand. _“**Bheir mi thu gu Morair Berriedale.”** I will take you to Lord Berriedale._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, sitting down in July and deciding to write and post this while finishing my final year of university: "weekly posting? this is gonna be easy peasy! why haven't I done this before??"
> 
> *looks at the last few chapters*  
*glances nervously at camera*  
  
_ahem_
> 
> on top of the uni workload, I've also been hit by a serious case of 'desperately wanting to start work on a new au'-itis in the last few weeks but I've been sitting on my hands about it to make sure this gets done instead - so thanks for waiting! this was another one of those chapters that was _supposed_ to be small, and then... grew... a lot...
> 
> per a suggestion by A_Professional_Protagonist, I've included the translations of the Gaelic directly after it - let me know if this is okay to read, or if it breaks the flow of the text too much
> 
> I hope you are all happy and well, and I look forward to reading your comments ❤️
> 
> much love, minty xoxo


	22. sing me a song of a lad that is gone

_cw: mild sexual content (second section)_

**JULY 1908**   
**Castle Sinclair Girnigoe, Caithness**

The inside of the castle was warm and welcoming, tartan liberally decking the stone of the entryway as Hiccup and Astrid were led in from the courtyard. A Sinclair clansmen stepped forward to take their coats, before waving them forward into the hall. They barely had time to take in their surroundings before footsteps announced George’s arrival, a grim look on his face as he descended the steps that immediately had Hiccup worried.

“Hugh,” George said, offering a hand out for him to shake as he approached. “It is very, very good to see you again, my lad.”

“And you,” Hiccup replied, before turning to his side. “Astrid, this is George, Lord Berriedale, James’ eldest son and heir; George, may I present Astrid Hofferson, of Clan Haddock.”

“An honour to meet you, Your Grace,” George said, ducking his head to kiss Astrid’s knuckles. “Welcome to Castle Sinclair Girnigoe; the hospitality of Clan Sinclair’s is yours.”

“Thank you, Lord Berriedale,” Astrid smiled. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“I’m so glad to see you both happy and healthy; when we heard the news from the Sutherlands, well… we feared the worst.”

Hiccup waved a hand. “I’m glad to report we survived our journey in one piece.” Next to him, Astrid snorted softly. “Well, mostly,” he chuckled, gesturing down at his new prosthetic. George’s eyes tracked down his body and then widened.

“My dear lad, what on earth has happened to you?”

“It’s a long story,” Hiccup replied. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really do need to speak to your father. It’s urgent.”

“If you have business regarding the clan, I am currently acting as Chief on my father’s behalf and have his authority to make decisions that I feel are-”

“Well, first of all, we came across two members of Clan Sutherland trying to sneak across your lands to find out information about your clan,” Astrid cut in. “You probably ought to do something about them.”

“What?”

“I really need to speak to your father,” Hiccup insisted.

“Your Grace-”

“George, please.”

George huffed gently. “I would prefer it if we continued this conversation upstairs in private, if you wouldn’t mind?” He turned over his shoulder and headed back towards the steps he had just descended.

As they made to follow him upstairs, Astrid leant in towards Hiccup, holding his arm loosely under the pretence of helping him up the stairs.

“Why did he call me _Your Grace_ as well?” she whispered as they ascended the stone steps.

Hiccup swallowed against the small lump that had just formed in his throat and used the pretence of concentrating on managing the stairs as an excuse to delay responding. “Oh. That. Well, er… that’s probably because… well, I mean, he has just assumed, I haven’t said anything-”

“Out with it, Haddock.”

“He thinks we’re married,” he blurted out as quietly as he could as they turned down a smaller corridor. “Because my wife would be the Duchess of Selkirk. And, well… it’s not like anyone else is going to fill the position. Not while you’re alive and by my side.”

Astrid fell uncharacteristically silent at his side. Hiccup began to panic, fearing he’d overstepped, but then he felt the reassuring pressure of her fingertips on her forearm and the gentle brush of her lips against his cheek and his rapidly beating heart calmed a little. 

George led them through the network of thin corridors, arriving finally at a small room that Hiccup recognised as James’ study, connected to his bedroom by a door that appeared to be closed and locked off to their left.

“What is it you wish to discuss with my father?” George said, sitting down behind the desk as Astrid closed the door behind them. 

“Did you read the letter my mother sent you?” Hiccup replied as he sank into one of the chairs facing the desk.

George blanched. “You mean to say that the contents of that letter are factual?”

“Every word,” Astrid confirmed, sitting at Hiccup’s right. “Hiccup’s leg is the evidence.”

“And we have letters from Sutherland, Elgin and Argyll to the trappers proving their involvement.”

George ran a hand through his hair. “**_Mo dhia_**,” he muttered. 

“We’ve made contact with all the clans we know we can trust, but it’s not that many,” Astrid continued. “We need Clan Sinclair to use your power and influence to bring the rest on board, so we can remove the three of them from power and make sure we can protect the dragons-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down a second there, please, Duchess.” George rose from his chair. “You’re asking us to endorse removing three Seventh clans from their seats?”

“It’s not a decision we’ve come to lightly, George,” Hiccup said. “They plotted to murder me and my clansmen; they’re trying to provoke a continental war-”

“It is not our place to make those decisions,” George interrupted. “That is a matter to bring to the Crown Courts, and if necessary His Majesty. We are not in any kind of position to pass judgement on our peers; how can you possibly think that-?”

A soft bell sounded in the next room. 

“George?” A raspy voice sounded through the door to James’ room. “Are you getting cross again? Come and tell me what’s getting you into such a state.”

George sighed and moved around the desk towards the door. “Please excuse me for a moment.”

Hiccup waited until the door had clicked shut and the footsteps behind had faded away before turning to Astrid and taking her hand in his own, seeking the reassurance of her touch.

“You okay?”

She nodded, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “I have to admit, I do like the way that Duchess sounds,” she smirked.

“I do, too.”

“I think General sounds very slightly better, but that’s just my personal preference.”

Hiccup laughed, and leant in to kiss her cheek. “Whatever suits you best, milady.”

The door opened again, and Astrid immediately jumped to her feet.

“He insists that he has to see you,” George said as he strode back into the room, not even attempting to conceal his disapproval. “I implore you, though, to please do your best to keep him calm and happy. More stress would not be good for him.”

“We understand,” Astrid said.

George nodded. “I will wait in the room down the hall with my siblings if you need anything. We will let you know when we hear back from our scouts about the intruders you saw.”

“**_Tapadh leibh_**, George.”

He nodded briskly at Hiccup's thanks, and then crossed towards the door that led back into the corridor. On his way out, he paused briefly with one hand on the edge of the door frame, his mouth ajar as if he were about to speak again, before shaking his head and swiftly pulling the door closed behind him.

Hiccup watched the door for a few more seconds, until he felt a pressure in the crook of his arm.

“You ready?” Astrid asked at his side.

He turned to her, and immediately leant down to gently graze his lips against her own. “As I’ll ever be,” he replied softly, before facing the door once more and gently rapping his knuckles against the old wood.

“Come in!”

The adjacent bedroom was wonderfully warm, thanks to a freshly stoked fire, and bright, with the windows thrown back to let the warm sunrise steal in and highlight every colour in the paper and fabrics. The Sinclair Chieftain was not an ostentatious man, but the despite the simplicity of the room it shone with a gleam that was not rooted in any physical object. It radiated from the man in the grand bed, who, despite his age and illness, sat bolt upright as they neared his side with the greatest of grins adorned upon his face.

“Hiccup, my dear, dear friend. How good it is to see you happy and we- what in God’s name has happened to your leg?”

Hiccup smiled at the incredulity in his friend’s voice as Astrid broke away to drag a pair of chairs closer to the bed. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story,” he chuckled, thanking her as he sank gratefully into the seat.

“So I’ve heard,” James said, looking marginally less aghast. “George tells me you’ve had quite some trouble the last few weeks.”

“That’s probably putting it mildly,” Hiccup said, glancing across at Astrid as they sat down. “We had a mishap on our way across the Atlantic and, well… a lot of things happened.”

“Did you find them?” James whispered. “Did you? You found the dragons?”

Hiccup blinked twice. 

It took him a few seconds to remember how to speak. “Wait, you knew?” he stuttered. “You knew, all these years, and you never said anything?”

“Your father insisted, he wanted to let you have a normal life for as long as possible,” James said. “He swore me to secrecy when you were just a lad.”

Hiccup sat back in his chair and exhaled one long breath, trying to process the information that had just been thrust upon him. 

“I never wanted to betray your trust,” James continued earnestly. “I hold your friendship in the highest regard. But I agreed that it was kinder to keep you in the dark for as long as possible. I only ever had your best interests at heart, please believe me.”

Hiccup swallowed before replying. “I… I believe you. I do. Sorry, it’s just been the craziest couple of weeks…”

“I can only imagine,” James said. His gaze shifted across to Astrid. “Mistress Hofferson. What a lovely surprise!”

“It’s good to see you again, Your Lordship,” she smiled. “Although I’m sorry to hear that you’re in poor health.”

James waved his hand. “I’m fine,” he said dismissively. “George and Aisling and all the rest keep fussing, but it’s nothing, really, just a late spring cold. I’ll be up and bouncing around in a few days, mark my words.”

“Whatever you say, James,” Hiccup replied in what he hoped was not a patronising manner.. 

“Don’t take that tone with me, young Master Haddock,” James chuckled. “I’m perfectly capable of judging my own physical fitness. I’ve lived long enough to know my body that well at least.”

James shuffled slightly more upright. “Enough about me. I’m just a grumpy old man with people worrying around me all the time. We can discuss my health and mounting paperwork tomorrow, when you two have had a chance to rest. For now, I want to hear all about you two. Are you well?”

“Very, thank you,” Hiccup smiled. “Clan Gordon are taking good care of us.”

“Clan Gordon?” James asked, raising an eyebrow. “Does that mean-?”

“Yes,” he replied. “My mother has been a gracious host, and we’ve been getting on very well. I’m so lucky to have found her.”

“I’m glad,” James said, clasping his hands loosely in front of him on top of the quilt. “Your mother… she’s been through so much. She was so young when she had you, and I think she blames herself for a lot of what’s happened. Which is why I’m pleased for both of you that you found each other.” He chuckled. “Speaking of finding each other, I see you two have worked things out between you?”

Hiccup looked down and smiled; he hadn’t noticed how he’d absentmindedly taken one of Astrid’s hands into his lap while James had been talking. Next to him, Astrid’s cheeks tinged a faint shade of pink, and she ducked her chin slightly.

“Yes. Yes, we did work it out,” he said, raising a hand to cup her cheek; she in turn gently grasped his wrist and stared back at him with those gorgeous blue eyes.

“George didn’t tell me that you two had been married, but I suppose I wouldn’t have been well enough to travel to a wedding anyway.” James’ comment brought them back to reality. Astrid blushed and looked down; Hiccup jerked round to see James smirking at their reactions.

“Oh, no, we’re not-”

“We haven’t yet-”

“-not had the time-”

James laughed. “Oh, I do apologise. But the way you two looked at each other just now, well… I’d suggest you get on with it, my lad.”

“I’m working on it,” he said, reaching out for Astrid’s hand once more and returning the beaming smile she sent his way.

James reached out a shaking hand and patted Hiccup’s knee gently with a twinkle in his eye. “That you are, my lad. That you are.”

* * *

Something simmered under her skin all evening.

Maybe it was the way she’d watched Hiccup stride down the corridors to the stables to find Toothless immediately after their audience with James had finished. Maybe it was the way she watched him embrace his friend with the love of a soulmate. Maybe it was the sound his elated laughter stirred in her chest as the four of them took to the sky far above the North Sea in search of the freedom only flying could give them.

Maybe it was the way the muscles across his shoulders and back had shifted under his skin as he’d dressed for dinner. Maybe it was the way his eyes had widened as he’d turned around to find her with her hair falling unbound down her spine as she slowly buttoned her shirt. Maybe it was the way his hand gripped hers more tightly than usual as they walked down to the dining hall together.

Maybe it was the way his hand had sneaked under the table to draw tight circles on the top of her knee. Maybe it was the way her own had danced across to his thigh and ever so softly dug her fingers into the coarse fabric she found there. Maybe it was the way his breath caught and tripped him mid-sentence as he did his best to return a coherent answer to George about something completely trivial while she continued her ministrations with an innocent look painted across her face.

The heat rose in her further still as they excused themselves from dinner as early as was polite, his hand settling just a little lower on her waist than was perhaps socially acceptable as they walked quickly back from the dining hall to their room. Her heart pounded, the feeling a din against her eardrums; the only thing louder was his laboured breathing and the soft patter of their footsteps as they flew down the hall and up a staircase to their room.

As soon as they were both inside, Hiccup held Astrid’s gaze as he pushed the door closed and locked it with one hand, before slowly moving towards her. His hands came to rest on her cheeks as he grazed at her lips with a surprising softness, before moving his mouth slowly downward.

“Would you believe that that’s not the first time I’ve had to leave that bloody room with a barely-concealable erection?” he muttered into her neck. She laughed, then gasped as his lips found purchase on her skin and began to suck. 

“Do I need to be jealous?” she teased, running her hands up and down his sides.

She felt him shake his head, before drawing himself back up to his full height and crowding her back a few paces until she was pressed against the wall. “The other time was because I was so in love with you that it hurt, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you for hours,” he said quietly, his eyes deep and piercing. “And I came back up here and took my hands to myself and pretended it was you.”

Her chest arched involuntarily into him at his words, and she felt his hands come against the small of her back. He chuckled.

“But this time…” He paused briefly, eyes roaming all over her face, taking in every inch. “This time I don’t need to pretend. I don’t need my imagination. This time, I have everything I need in front of me.”

“I love you,” she whispered, leaning up to peck at his lips. “I love you more than I can put into words.”

“Astrid,” he said softly. Like the word meant everything to him. Like she meant everything to him.

“I want you,” she said. “I don’t care that we’re not married yet. I want to show you how much I love you.”

Her hands, which had been roaming all over his chest, came to a stop as she registered his sudden stillness. 

“Is that… I mean, do you want to as well?”

He nodded, his face breaking into a smile. “I… of course… I…”

She laughed softly and brought him in for a chaste kiss. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“It’s a yes. It’s a million times yes.”

He was so gentle with her, she remembered when she looked back on this moment (more often than she cared to mention). On future occasions, when they had experienced each other more closely, she would demand more precision, more roughness from him that he would happily provide, but the first time they fell between the sheets together he was nothing but a perfect gentleman.

It was awkward at first, with neither of them particularly well informed of the mechanics of the whole thing, but their laughter was easy and their hands unhurried and their confidence unabashed. They took the time to learn the other, to learn what raised a smile, what drew short gasps, what made fingers and toes curl involuntarily and backs arch towards the sky. 

She felt his talented fingers and mouth all over her body; dug her hands into his hair and pressed his face into her skin, everywhere she could have him, his touch simultaneously too much and not enough as the fire blazed inside her. When she’d had her fill, he let her turn him onto his back so that she could return the favour, his fingers bunching in their sheets and her name bursting from his lips in between shaky breaths and muttered expletives. The sight of him, breathless and sweat-drenched and completely free in a way she hadn’t seen since Berk. The feel of him, soft and needy under her touch. The sound of him, of her, of them - together.

It was the easiest thing in the world to draw herself up and sink down into his lap, into his embrace, into everything that she’d never known she wanted with him. The stone walls echoed slightly, their whispered pleas and the gentle sounds of skin against skin enveloping them until the fire inside her could be held back no more. Her lips stopped against his, her forehead fell against his collarbone, and the world apart from him ceased to exist for a few eternal, blissful seconds.

In the aftermath, the most significant thing she remembered was warmth - warmth from him, warmth from the fireplace, warmth from the feeling in her chest as he gathered her in his arms and pressed a kiss to her temple and stroked her hair until the warmth of sleep took her too.

* * *

The first things he was aware of was a weight on his arm and something tickling his face as he breathed in and out. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he came face to face with a tuft of blonde hair. _Oh. Astrid’s here. That’s nice_, his sleepy brain commented.

Then the rest of his body began waking up and reporting in, and the feeling of her pressed against him seemed to roll in in waves. First, there was the sensation of her cheek against the crook of his elbow. Then, the hair trapped between her back and his chest. The smooth skin of her upper legs just barely touching the tops of his thighs. And at the bottom of the bed, she’d pulled his foot between her ankles during the night. It had been a while since she’d done that, hesitant about his leg even in sleep.

For a long, eternal moment, he luxuriated in watching her sleep, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against his back and the listening to the soft sounds of her rhythmic breaths. The dawn light danced in around the curtains, warming the room and everything in it just a little. 

A stray piece of hair dropped down into her face; he instinctively reached over to tuck it behind her ear. The movement jostled her slightly, and her breathing gradually became shallower over the next few seconds until her eyes blinked sleepily open.

“Shh, shh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered, planting a gentle kiss to her temple. “Go back to sleep.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, turning round so that she could lie on his chest instead. Something in his chest burned with happiness at the sight, and he gently brought a hand up to smooth her hair down as she quickly nodded back off.

Someone else had other ideas though. Not a minute later, there was a soft knock at the door.

“_Lord Hugh? Your Grace? It’s urgent_.”

Beside him, Astrid groaned, turning away from him and collapsing onto her front, insistent on finding sleep again. He chuckled softly and drew the sheets up to protect her modesty before climbing out of bed and locating a pair of trousers and a shirt to pull on. The knock sounded again as he approached it, and he did his best to slide the locks open quietly so as not to disturb Astrid further.

Outside the door was Andrew, James’ second eldest son. It was impossible to miss the way his eyes were tinged red around the edges.

“_Andrew? Are you okay?_” Hiccup asked. “_What is i-?_” He stopped mid-sentence. There was only one reason Andrew would be waking him at such an early hour with tears running down his cheeks. “_Oh, Andrew, I’m so-_”

“_I regret to inform you that my father, the Earl of Caithness, passed away in his sleep just a few minutes ago_.”

“_Andrew, I’m so sorry_.” Something completely at odds with how he’d woken up feeling started building in his chest. “_Are you all alright-?_” He shook his head, admonishing himself. “_Forgive me, that’s a stupid question. Is there anything we can do to help?_”

Andrew smiled sadly and shook his head. “_This has been coming for a while. Everything has already been sorted. My brother would like me to inform you that the wake will begin at two o’clock this afternoon, and the funeral will be held at the same time tomorrow afternoon._”

Hiccup nodded. “_Astrid and I, we don’t have our formal dress-_”

“_We can lend you some of ours_,” Andrew said. “_My father holds- held so much respect and adoration for you. If you would join us as Sinclairs for the proceedings, you would be most welcome. Family is so much more than blood._”

“_Whatever is most comforting for you all. It is such a great honour to be considered part of your Clan in any regard._” Hiccup stepped into the corridor and took the older man in his arms. “_I’m so sorry,_” he whispered as Andrew burst into fresh tears.

As Andrew headed back to report to his brother, the new Chief and Earl, a short while later, Hiccup stepped back into the room to find Astrid sitting up on her knees on the bed, her nightdress sourced from her case. “I heard crying,” she began carefully.

Hiccup walked up to the bed and took her in his arms before replying. “James has just passed away,” he said. That was all he managed before his own tears overcame him.

Through his crying, he felt Astrid coax him down onto the bed until his head lay on her chest, her hands stroking softly through his hair as his chest shook with silent sobs. It was a long while before his cries subsided, the back of his throat sticky and his eyes stinging from tears, but even then her reassurance continued, unhurried and gentle. _I am with you_, it said loud and clear._ I love you._

There were matters he needed to help with, places his presence would be expected, but for a long while, Hiccup could not find it in him to rise from the bed and address them. He simply lay on top of the woman he loved and let her comfort him. And while their problems were far from resolved, for a little while the world felt slightly less melancholy.

* * *

Hiccup and Astrid ending up remaining at the castle for several days past their planned visit. Of course, a large part of this was to do what they could in supporting Clan Sinclair through an incredibly difficult time, not to mention paying their own respects to one of Hiccup’s best friends, but despite the grief they both felt to a greater or lesser degree neither of them could forget the pressing matter that lingered in the back of their minds.

“We’re running out of time, Hiccup,” she said gently as they undressed for bed on the third day after James’ funeral. “We have less than a week to get back to Blair Atholl and prepare the rest of the clans for the gathering. I know you’re hurting over James, and I am truly sorry that you have lost such a wonderful friend, but we either need to get George on side or cut our losses and move on.”

“His father has just died, Astrid, we can’t go banging on his door and making demands of him.”

“But we need to, don’t you see? We need the Sinclairs-”

“I can’t do it, Astrid,” Hiccup said, sitting down on the bed and sighing. “It’s too clinical, too insensitive.”

Astrid moved round to sit by his side, wrapping her arms around his chest and pulling him towards her. “I know,” she whispered. “But there’s a bigger picture here. George is a reasonable man, he’ll understand.”

“I don’t think he will,” Hiccup muttered. Astrid moved one of her hands to brush his fringe to one side. 

“We have to try.”

He nodded reluctantly. “I know we do.”

And so, after breakfast the next morning, they stood hand in hand outside George’s office waiting for permission to enter. 

George’s “come in” was raspy, the telltale voice of a man who hadn’t slept properly in days and felt too much weight on his shoulders. It wasn’t a surprise to Astrid when he cut Hiccup off not three sentences into what they’d planned to say.

“I truly am sorry, to both of you. You have come all this way, and been of great support and help in the last few days, and we owe a great deal to you for that. But I cannot.”

“George, please-”

“No, I mean I cannot,” George said, his voice catching in his throat. “I mean I cannot deal with this right now. It’s one thing too many. You may have convinced my father of this nonsense, but I do not see merit in it. I cannot entertain your fanciful story any longer, I’m sorry.”

Astrid blanched. That’s not what I was expecting to hear. “Lord Caithness-”

“I am not- my father is- was…” George took a deep breath. “My father, for all of his merits, was far more whimsical. He may well have believed this tale you’ve spun of dragons and kidnappers and political conquest, but I do not. I think the Gordons have manipulated you into a position so that they can use you to secure themselves a Seventh by forcing Sutherland from power.”

Astrid couldn’t recall the last time both she and Hiccup had been completely lost for words.

“George, what the hell are you talking about?” Hiccup eventually said. “If you need proof, we can go down to the forest right now-”

“No, I’m not wasting any more time on this.” George rose from his seat and leaned forward across the desk. “Hugh, I truly am sorry, but I meant it when I said that I cannot deal with this right now. If you wish to stay, you are welcome to our hospitality for as long as you wish to take it, but if you insist on pressing the matter further I will have to ask you to leave.”

“You know what’s at stake here; even if you’re not convinced about the dragons, you can’t believe that I’ve made this up on a whim! I’ve lost half a leg; we were held hostage by the men Sutherland sent to kill us - these are not the actions of innocent men!”

“Hugh-”

“I’m trying to stop a war and protect innocent creatures, we need you to come and stand with us to have the pressure on the clans-”

“Hugh, I mean it-”

“Hiccup-” Astrid cautioned gently, but he was already halfway out of his seat.

“Your father would not have hesitated-”

“Don’t you dare tell me what my father would have done,” George snarled, cutting him off. “My father spent his entire life in the service of other people. He’s barely three days in the ground - I thought you of all people might understand what is going on, how I feel right now.”

Hiccup’s face paled. “George, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant-”

“I think you both should leave.” A stony silence echoed around the room.

George sniffed and turned to Astrid. “Duchess, my sincere apologies for raising my voice in front of you. Thank you for all you have done to help in the last few days; it is most sincerely appreciated. I look forward to seeing you again at the Gathering.”

“The Gathering? But I thought-?”

“I’ll still be there,” George said coolly. “But I cannot give you my support for your endeavour.”

“Please,” Hiccup croaked. “I’m just trying to do right by my people.”

“And I am doing the same. I will not put my Clan in the firing line for something I myself do not believe in.”

“George-”

“I wish you a safe trip back home,” George said more kindly. “And also good luck. I have a feeling that you are really going to need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not sunday, I know, but I literally just finished this. it probably has a shit ton of typos and formatting errors but it's been already been far too long since I last posted so I figured what the hell (I'll reread and correct them soon sorry)
> 
> I'm sorry about the very long delay to this chapter. life stuff has happened, and I just haven't had the time (and sometimes energy) to write at all recently. but please know that I have no intention of abandoning this work. there's only three chapters left, and about 30% is already written. it might take me another couple of months but this fic _ will _ be finished, I promise you
> 
> hope you are all well, love and best wishes to you all <3


	23. the fire grows brighter

**JULY 1908**  
**Castle Sinclair Girnigoe, Caithness**

Hiccup and Astrid did not return to Huntly Castle from Caithness, but instead rendezvoused with Valka and the others further south at Blair Atholl, the seat of the Duke of Atholl and the home of Clan Murray. After their heated conversation with George, they’d quickly packed up their sparse possessions and quietly exited the castle, nodding to the guards as they passed the end of the bridge. It was early enough that they managed to make their exit without coming across any other members of the family, and therefore they were able to avoid any awkward conversation.s

As soon as they were out of earshot of the castle behind them, Hiccup groaned loudly and threw his head back.

“Oh, I’m such an idiot,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have shouted at him. His dad’s only just died, I don’t know what…” He trailed off, staring at the floor as they moved up the hill towards the tree line.

Astrid squeezed his hand. “You meant well,” she said gently. “And he didn’t rule out helping us.”

“You heard what he said,” Hiccup replied, exasperated. “I’ve ruined this. All that hard work that you guys put in, and I’ve ruined it in one conversation.”

“You haven’t ruined it-”

“I have, I know I have, I’ve put all of us and the dragons in danger-”

“Hiccup-” Astrid yanked him to a halt, and raised her hands to cup his face. Under her touch, she felt him relax, though only slightly.

“Stop. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“But what if-?”

“But so what? We’ll work it out. We always so.”

He fell silent, and for a few seconds the only sounds the soft pant of their breathing and the wind whistling through the sparse forest around them. Keeping her thumbs brushing smoothly over his cheekbones, Astrid waited patiently. Hiccup’s eyes fall to the floor, roaming around for a few seconds before he took a deep breath and looked back up at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, reaching a hand up to grasp loosely at her wrist.

“You don’t need to be,” she replied. “Be gentle with yourself.”

Hiccup chuckled. “Can you hear Toothless too? Because he’s saying the exact same thing.”

“Nope. Just great minds and all that.” Astrid stretched up and gave him a quick kiss. “Come on. We’ve got a long way to go today.”

A short walk later, the dragons came bounding up to them, eager to keep their company again after a couple of days apart. Stormfly fussed around Astrid, having picked up on her unease as soon as they came into view, and she welcomed the affection. With a quick show of fuss towards Toothless, the four of them quickly took off into the sky and towards the south.

* * *

**Blair Atholl, the Cairngorms, Scottish Highlands**

The castle shone in the afternoon sunlight that broke intermittently through the sparse clouds as they circled down to the front doors, a white fortress surrounded by a sea of tents. Even from a hundred feet, they could hear the noise of a small town below them, chatter and laughter and the whinny of horses. And also the sound of swords being sharpened. The clink of armour. The pop of a pistol firing practice rounds into a nearby tree.

“It looks like they’re preparing for war,” Astrid called to Hiccup as they neared the ground. He didn’t reply but to set his jaw more slightly, a quiet determination mixed with a small amount of fear in his eyes.

As they touched down on the lawn in front of the castle, the grand front door swung open, and a small group of people appeared and began hurrying towards them. Astrid swung down from Stormfly’s back and wrapped her arms around the dragon’s neck, smiling when she felt the dragon nip her braid affectionately and nestle her with her wings.

_Go on_, she heard in her mind. _Go organise your flock. You are a good alpha_.

She pulled the dragon closer for a few more seconds, her gratitude pouring out in her embrace and across their link, before she turned to greet their welcoming party.

“You’re back! We were beginning to worry!” Fishlegs cried. Astrid smiled and stepped forward to clasp her friend in an embrace.

“Everything’s nearly ready, we were basically waiting for you to get back,” Ruffnut said as Astrid hugged her next. 

“I hope you bring good news with you,” Valka said, from where she and Hiccup were slightly awkwardly greeting each other. “The clans that have arrived have seen the dragons and are sworn to their protection, but knowing the Sinclairs bring even more support would be a wonderful position to take into the gathering.”

Astrid looked across at Hiccup and immediately moved to take his hand in hers as she saw his face fall.

“James… passed away the morning after we arrived,” he said quietly. “That’s why we were so late getting here.”

“Oh…”

“Hiccup, I’m so sorry…”

Eyes fixed on the tears beginning to drip down Hiccup’s cheeks, she didn’t notice the others approaching them until Ruffnut’s arm was snaking around her shoulder. For a moment, they all stood there in one giant hug, supporting their friend until he shifted his hands up to wipe his eyes.

“And George isn’t convinced,” he continued, sniffing a little. “We tried talking to him, but he said he couldn’t see it as anything other than a power play. I… may have pushed him a little far. We had an argument, and he asked us to leave.”

“He’s just lost his father,” Astrid reminded him gently. “He may still see the truth in our words.”

“Astrid’s right, Hiccup. All is not yet lost,” Valka added from the side. “Doing this without the Sinclairs’ support is not impossible. We have Atholl and Perth on side, and dozens of the smaller clans. We are- you are the voice of peace. We will make this work.”

Hiccup nodded, and drew himself up to his full height. “I suppose I ought to greet Atholl, since he’s hosting us so generously.”

“He and Perth and a few of the other chiefs went out for a hunt just before lunch; it may be a couple of hours until they return,” Valka interjected. “The Duchess has said she’s happy to receive you both, but after you’ve had a chance to eat and wash and rest, if you want it.”

Astrid felt Hiccup’s hand snake into her own, gripping it tightly, and she looked up to find his face asking a silent question. She nodded.

“Well, then,” Valka smiled. “I suppose we’d better show you what we’ve been getting up to.”

* * *

The camp was vast, and took them the best part of an hour to traverse, even while constantly on the move. Each of the clans had sent not just their chiefs, but also their best swords - and many of them had brought families too, all eager to observe such a momentous occasion with their own eyes.

Ruffnut was right - the bulk of the preparations had already been carried out, a result of the detailed plans Astrid and Valka had made while Hiccup had lain unconscious recovering from his amputation, and it was a simple matter of filling everyone in on the final stages of the plan. The chiefs that were gathered had been briefed by Valka the night before, but all were eager to profess their support to Hiccup in person. 

“_You have our voices and our loyalty_,” Chief Ferguson assured him in the words that had been repeated by everyone he’d met, grasping his arm firmly as Astrid watched on at his side. “_And our swords, if it comes to it_.”

“_I sincerely hope that it doesn’t_,” Hiccup replied. 

The chief nodded with understanding. “_Aye, my lad. As do we._”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of handshaking and rousing speeches and final minute planning, and before he knew it, it was almost midnight and he and Astrid were finally able to draw their last meeting to a close and head off for some privacy. After a day of talking almost non-stop, they both walked up to the room the Atholls had leant to them for the duration of their stay, their silence extending from the moment they left until they had both washed and changed for bed.

“You did so much,” he finally. said as they were pulling the sheets back off the bed. “You two put all of this together without any input from me.”

“That’s not true,” she replied. “We were enacting your vision. I tried to make the decisions I thought you would agree with. It’s your name on it, after all.” 

“But that’s unfair. After all you two achieved, in such short time, you should be the ones getting the credit for it.”

Astrid sighed and moved around the bed. “Do you value the contributions we made?”

“Of course.”

“Do you see this as a joint venture?” She wrapped her arms around his chest.

“Of course.”

“Do you think your mother and I will ever let you get too big for your boots?”

He laughed, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I wouldn’t even dare try.”

“Then don’t worry about it. Neither of us are after fame and glory, in any case.” She pulled back a little and cupped his face in her hand. “After everything we’ve been through, I’ll be happy to just go home with you and our friends and our dragons, knowing that we’re safe.”

“That sounds wonderful,” he muttered, ducking his head to press his lips against hers.

He felt her smile against him, before tugging on his hand. “Come on. We need to sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Together, they fell lazily into the bed, tugging the sheets up around them despite the warmth in the room. He’d just registered Astrid’s head on his chest before sleep took him.

* * *

He woke suddenly, gasping for breath, but even as he laid in the unfamiliar bed and tried to place himself, the details of the dream that had spooked him back to consciousness faded away until he could not remember anything about it. As his breath slowed, his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him to note the small amount of light that was starting to trickle in around the curtains - it was nearly dawn.

In his head, something stirred along with him.

_Is Half of Me okay?_ Toothless’ yawn echoed softly. Hiccup smiled and sat up in bed, stretching his arms out. 

“I’m alright, bud,” he said softly, mindful of Astrid still sleeping next to him.

_Want to fly? I do not want to sleep, am excited-bad._

He nodded, even though the dragon could not see him. “Please,” he whispered.

It took him less than a quarter of an hour to dress and head downstairs, even in the dark. The house was still, with not even the servants and members of the clan up and about, and he managed to make his way through the house and to the great front door of the castle before the sky began to brighten more substantially. As he closed the door behind him, below him on the gravelled area in front of the steps Toothless was pacing absentmindedly, barely more than a shadow in the predawn. The dragon perked up as he approached, wiggling with an enthusiasm that immediately wiped Hiccup’s worries from his mind. 

“Hi bud,” Hiccup said softly, embracing his friend without reservation. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

Ten minutes later, they were sat atop the peak of Ben Macdui - at least, that’s what he thought it was.

“Fishlegs would know,” he noted aloud as he hopped down from Toothless’ back. “Even without a map.”

_Half of Me has clever friends._

“I don’t think the word ‘clever’ has ever been used to describe Tuffnut before.”

_All clever. All in different ways. All of us are useful._

Toothless settled at his right hand side, and together the two of them sat in silence and looked out over the horizon towards the sky as it filled with colour from the approaching sun.

“It’s going to be a beautiful day,” he said some time later. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

_No rain, good. Means dragons can make fire._

Hiccup reached out a hand towards his friend. “It shouldn’t come to that, bud. I really hope it doesn’t.”

_I must protect dragons. I must keep them safe._

“I’ll do everything I can,” he swore. “You guys are my first priority, always.”

_But you have your own to protect._ Toothless shifted a little.

“I don’t want to have to choose,” he whispered. “I can’t. I can’t do it again. I got it so wrong before. I’m worried I’ve got it wrong now. And not just about taking people’s words for it, but about the whole thing. What if something goes wrong? What if they believe us, but don’t do anything anyway? What do we do then?”

_Half of Me will find a way. _

Hiccup exhaled one long, shaky breath, before giving life to the words he’d been hesitant to tell anyone. “I’m not sure I can.”

Toothless was very still for a long moment.

_Half of Me is clever. Half of Me is brave. Half of Me is kind. We will fight, we will win._

“I don’t want to fight anyone.” He buried his head in his hands. “I just want us all to live in peace and be nice to each other. Why can’t people be nice to each other?”

Toothless nudged his arms until he dropped them. _If there is a way, Half of Me will find it. If there is no way, Half of Me has me. And I have Half of Me. _

Hiccup smiled and reached for his best friend, hands stretching out to fuss his ears. “We’ll always have each other, bud,” he promised. “I’m not gonna leave you. Not this time.”

Toothless nosed even closer. _We have each other. We will carry on._

Hiccup didn’t really have anything to say after that.

Slowly, the sun crested over the hills in front of them, and he revelled in the warmth that appeared upon his skin. With the light, the rest of them would be rousing for the day ahead, putting final preparations into motion, preparing to receive the chiefs that had not camped overnight - and his presence would soon be required, his absence quickly noted. Not to mention the need to hide the dragons, just in case. The day ahead was coming, whether he liked it or not.

But sat atop a mountain peak with his best friend, just for a moment, the challenges they were facing seemed to pale into insignificance. No matter what happened, they had each other, and their friends, and that was enough. No matter what happened, they would see it through. Together. As they always had done.

Side by side, they enjoyed the dawn light for a few more stolen minutes, before wordlessly moving together to set back off down the valley towards their judgement day.

* * *

With the dragons being concealed in the next valley over in order to protect them from prying eyes, Hiccup was forced to leave Toothless with the rest of his flock and make the trek back to Blair Atholl on foot. By the time he was back within sight of the castle, the sun was well and truly up, and the camp along with it. It sprawled around the castle on three sides, at least half a mile in each direction. All of Scotland had come to observe this gathering. 

Weaving between the guylines and fire pits, he saw children playing with a muddy football, grooms attending to their horses, chiefs struggling to shine their shoes and straighten their kilts. Dressed plainly, with no identifying marks to him (bar his prosthetic), Hiccup was able to move among the tents as any other person there, enjoying being able to not be the Duke for a few more precious moments. 

Each step inevitably drew him closer towards the castle, and as he came back up to the front door, it was drawn open to reveal three chiefs already dressed to the nines, including his mother.

“_Ah! Hugh!_” Atholl smiled as they made their way down the steps towards him. “_We were wondering where you’d run off to._”

“_Oh, just to check on the dragons_,” Hiccup said. “_Sorry, I didn’t realise the time. I hope you’ve not been waiting for me-_”

“_Nonsense, Your Grace,_” Perth cut in. “_I’m not surprised you wanted some space this morning. It’s a big day!_”

“_Without a doubt_,” he muttered. 

“_Have courage, Your Grace_,” Valka said. They’d decided to keep their familial connection a secret from all but a few until the dust had settled. “_You speak the truth, and you speak in the voice of peace. The Clans will rally around you when they learn what Sutherland and the others have done to besmirch their names and reputations. Scotland will support you, I am sure of it._”

“_Thank you, Lady Huntly_,” Hiccup said, offering a small smile which she returned. “_Your words of support are greatly appreciated_.”

Perth looked down at his pocketwatch. “_Heavens, is that the time? We’d best let the Duke go off to get ready - they’ll all be arriving within the hour._” He looked at Hiccup. “_By your leave, Your Grace?_”

Hiccup waved a hand. “_By all means. I will see you shortly._”

He nodded at each of them in turn, lingering a little on the look he shared with his mother, before ducking around them and back into the castle.

Inside, a kind of organised chaos was unfolding as the Murrays frantically put the final touches to their seat in preparation for the arrival of the chiefs. Hiccup walked through to the Great Hall, where the chairs were being set up for the gathering - seven larger thrones in a circle in the centre, each with two flanking chairs, surrounded by four blocks of normal seats for the Chiefs and other observers. His stomach turned a little, and he realised that he hadn’t eaten anything, so he made a stop by the kitchen for a quick bowl of porridge, and to thank the staff for the hard work they had put in to the day’s events. But after that, his excuses for staying off getting dressed had all been exhausted, and he reluctantly trudged upstairs to the suite of rooms Atholl had kindly offered to the Haddocks for the duration of their stay.

“Hiccup, where have you been? You’re cutting it a bit close, _**charaid**_,” Fishlegs warned as he opened the door to their shared living room.

“I know, I know,” he muttered, rubbing one hand through his hair. “I was with Toothless, and then I got distracted by final preparations.”

“You should be letting other people worry about that,” Fishlegs tutted, standing up and dusting off his kilt. With the occasion as it was, he and Snotlout had flown back to their lands while he and Astrid had still been in Caithness to retrieve all their formal wear. Though they had all gained most of the weight they had lost while shipwrecked back since arriving home in Scotland, their clothes had still been a little baggy, and they had all been frantically pinning and sewing the night before until their eyes could stay open no longer, to make sure it all fit well enough.

“How are you all feeling?” Hiccup asked, as Snotlout came into the room behind him, closely trailed by Tuffnut. 

“Sore. I’m sure Ruffnut poked me with the needle more than was necessary,” Tuff grumbled, rubbing his upper arms before collapsing onto the sofa.

“You all look great,” Hiccup said truthfully, smiling round at them all. “Especially you, Snotlout.”

His cousin smiled, a little sadly. “That’s good, because it’s not like there’s anything else I can wear, is there?”

The need to find a response to this was happily mitigated by the opening of the door to the room he and Astrid had been sharing. Ruffnut’s appearance was preceded by a drawn out groan.

“Hiccup, I love you and you’re a great friend, but are you _sure_ I have to wear this ridiculous get up _all day_?”

“Sorry. The Chiefs have a standard that they’ll expect us to adhere to. Regalia included.”

“Ugh.” Ruffnut sank into a chair, and tried to sling one leg over the arm but was restricted by the floor length fabric. “_Oh for-_” Chuntering under her breath, she yanked her skirt up until her lower legs were freed enough to stretch. “Much better.” Content, she started picking the dirt out from under her fingernails

Hiccup thought Snotlout and Fishlegs’ eyes might pop out of their skulls. Ruffnut looked round at them when she noticed the room had fallen silent.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Fishlegs stuttered.

“Yep. Nothing. What’s that outside?” Snotlout moved towards the window in a flurry.

Ruffnut made eye contact with Hiccup, who shrugged. 

“Oh, yeah, Astrid wants to talk to you, Hiccup,” she said, going back to her nails. “You better hurry up. We gotta be downstairs soon.”

He nodded, thankful for the excuse to escape the awkwardness in the room, and darted quickly behind her into the bedroom. 

“Haven’t you all got better things to stare at?” Ruffnut huffed. There was a brief pause, and then a yelp from Snotlout. Hiccup paused in his motions.

“Ow! You poked me in the eye!” Snotlout whimpered and clapped a hand over his eye.

“It wasn’t welcome where it was looking. I closed it for you.”

Hiccup chuckled and closed the door softly behind himself, before turning around to face the bedroom.

His jaw hit the floor. 

Astrid was stood in front of the mirror on the opposite side of the room dressed in full Clan Haddock regalia – long black tartan skirt, heeled black leather shoes, long sleeved white blouse, sash slung over one shoulder. Almost the same as Ruffnut, with two small but very significant differences. The first difference was that her slash clasped on her right shoulder rather than her left.

The second was the presence of their clan’s marriage braids clearly visible in her hair, to which she was putting the finishing touches.

“Astrid…”

She turned around and smiled warmly at his presence, before walking over to him “_**Hej**_! The tailor from the Murrays said it was lucky I was such a standard size, or she’d never have had time to get it done that quickly. Thank you for the material, it’s lovely and warm.”

“Astrid, I… I mean you… you…” he tried again as she embraced him. It wasn’t fair; how could anyone expect him to form proper sentences when she’d sprung this on him with no warning?

“What? What is it, is something out of place? It needs to look perfect.” She stepped back to run her hands over her clothes in anxiety.

“No, it’s just…” He moved closer towards her. “I know you left clan life before you learnt a lot of this, but there’s significance to your sash-”

“Left shoulder for clanswomen, right shoulder for Chieftainesses, I know.” She smiled up at him. “And I’m well aware of what the braids mean too. I’m simply staking my claim. Do you object?”

_Honestly_? How could he?

“Not in the slightest, milady,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m just pointing out that that other people will observe it too and draw their own conclusions – I mean, we don’t even have bands…”

She stepped forward and picked his hands up in hers, her thumbs running soothingly over his knuckles. “Hiccup, you know I love you, right?”

“I know nothing with more certainty.”

“And you love me too, right?”

“With everything I am.”

She smiled and blushed. “Then does it really matter whether a ceremony tells us we are married, when we know it to be so in our hearts?”

He raised a hand to cup her cheek. “No, I suppose it doesn’t really,” he said softly, eyes roaming all over her face.

Astrid turned her face into his hand to kiss his palm. “Then I suggest, my Lord Husband, that you get changed before you make us late, and all our hard work ends up being for naught.”

“At once, my Lady Wife.” He leant down to kiss her once, before striding off towards his trunk.

“Yep, definitely hope that catches on,” she called after him. The smile that spread across his face at her words was brighter than a million candles.

* * *

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

“C’mon, H, you’ve got this all sorted. Go in there, kick their arses, conquer Scotland, fly off into the sunset with your dragon. Piece of cake.”

“Thanks, Tuff, really appreciate it.”

“I think what Tuff is trying to say is that you’ve got this, Hiccup.”

“Yeah, we’ve got this in the bag.”

“_We_?”

“Well, Astrid didn’t do _all_ the work by herself, did she?”

“True-”

“You guys.”

“Sorry, H.”

“We’re trying to be supportive.”

“I know, guys, and I appreciate it.”

He took a deep breath, then straightened up from where he’d been leaned against the wall. They were hidden in a corridor close to the Great Hall, close enough that all the voices were audible, almost individually distinguishable. “Okay. Because it’s such a big gathering, I get to have two advisors rather than one. My right hand has to be my heir, my strongest sword, or my Chieftainess. Astrid?”

“Like I’d let anyone sit me anywhere else.” 

He felt a warmth bloom in his chest at her blatant passion and returned her nod. “And the other… well, I was hoping that you’d join me, Snotlout.”

He watched his cousin’s jaw fall slack. “Me?” he whispered. “Why? Don’t you want Fishlegs?”

“I want to show the world the way Clan Haddock works, that it works for everyone who accepts our way of life and understands the importance of working together.”

“But Fishlegs could do that too. I’m just your disgraced cousin who doesn’t even have a clan anymore.”

“You’re wearing our tartan. You know our greatest secrets and you’re willing to protect them with everything you have. You’ve put your life on the line for your clansmen, human and dragon alike. You are Clan Haddock, if you want to be.” He walked over to his cousin and rested his hands on his shoulders. “You know the words. All you need to do is say them.”

Snotlout dropped to one knee without hesitation. “_I accept the offer of membership of Clan Haddock. From this day until my last, your people are my people, your ways are my ways, your lands are my lands. **Bi mar ghuth na sìthe.**_”

Hiccup knelt down and clasped his cousin’s hand in between both of his. “_You are family, always, cousin._ Join me, please.”

They rose together, hands still joined, until Hiccup’s nerves rose in his throat once more. He turned to face his friends, his supporters, his closest allies, and found all of their faces set and determined.

“Thank you for sticking with me,” he said softly. “Let’s hope this works.”

“It will work.” Astrid’s arms came up around his shoulders; in one motion, the group stepped together into one giant embrace. “We have each other. Whatever happens, no one can change that. That’s worth more than anything that gathering can say.”

Hiccup looked up at his friends to find five pairs of eyes set in determination. Something akin to pride swelled in his chest, and his lips broke into a smile. Just as he parted them to speak again, another voice beat him to it.

“_Hello, Hugh._”

He whipped round, and found George Sinclair, attended by two of his clan, looking at him calmly. 

Hiccup gasped. “George! Oh, I’m so sorry about what happened yesterday, I really didn’t-”

George waved a hand. “Water under the bridge, my friend. I’m sorry for the way I reacted.”

“What- what are you doing here? I mean, I know what you’re doing here, what with the Gathering and all, but I mean- what can I do for you?”

George broke into a smile. “Oh, my friend, I believe you have a magical story to share with me." 

* * *

The previous night’s whiskey still sat a little on Malcolm’s breath as his carriage made its way up the drive to Blair Castle, leading a procession of almost a dozen clans. They’d not had a great deal to drink - despite Elgin’s best efforts to the contrary - but it had been enough to make his head pound a little for the greater part of the morning’s journey, the effect thankfully wearing off with a few miles to go.

At his side, Iona dozed with her head leant against the rattling window panes. That was a first - normally, she was an incredibly light sleeper. But the past few weeks had been disconcerting for all of them, given what had… happened to his father. It was little wonder that she was so exhausted, with all of the new duties she was undertaking as Chieftainess. It wasn’t like there was anything else keeping her up at night - they hadn’t been intimate since before the… incident. Malcolm felt a little slighted by her decision to sleep apart from him, but couldn’t bring himself to be cross with her. He was, after all, keeping some rather substantial information from her. And he loved her, plain and simple. He’d never force himself on her, no matter their relationship status.

They turned up the drive a little before midday, and in the distance the smoke from the campfires was immediately visible. Malcolm shifted closer towards the window, trying to get a count of the tents gathered around the castle. He lost count after fifty. There were perhaps more representatives than he’d expected for the meeting, but he supposed the election of a Seventh was a rather significant event that would result in a larger audience than usual. No matter. It was simply more witnesses to his endeavours, more that would see the fruits of his labours. 

The procession reached the front of the castle, and Malcolm was pleased to see the Duke of Atholl and his household out to receive him. _Let him get used to kneeling before me_, he smiled to himself as he stepped down from the carriage. _They’ll all be doing it before long._

He reached over and gently shook his wife by the shoulder. “_We’re here, my love_,” he murmured, planting a kiss to her cheek by her ear. “_Time to rise and shine_.”

She groaned softly as she came round, and he chuckled lightly as he leant back to give her some space. Her hands stretched out from where they had been settled in her lap towards him, and he took them swiftly in his own, brushing kisses against her knuckles until she giggled and swatted him away playfully.

The carriage lurched to a stop in the centre of the parade square in front of the castle; quickly, he jumped down from the carriage on the far side from the procession and darted around the back of the carriage in order to help Iona down the steps, before processing forward hand in hand to meet the Duke and Duchess.

“_Chief Sutherland. Welcome to Blair Atholl,_” Atholl said as they approached. There was little expression on his face; beside him, his wife painted a similarly neutral picture. 

“_Thank you for your offer to host us all_,” Malcolm replied, inclining his head as little as possible before turning to his side. “_Iona, may I present the Duke of Atholl, Chief of Clan Murray, and his wife the Duchess. This is my wife Iona, my Chieftainess and Countess_.”

“_A pleasure to meet you both_,” Iona replied, a great smile on her face. “_Thank you for welcoming us to your beautiful home_.”

“_It is our pleasure, Countess Sutherland,_” Duchess Atholl replied. “_Please, come this way_.”

Iona let go of Malcolm’s hand and stepped forward to take the Duchess’ arm instead. Their wives would sit behind them and observe the Gathering with the rest of the attended Chiefs and Chieftainesses. Malcolm moved closer to Chief Murray, who bobbed his head. 

“_Is everything almost ready?_” Malcolm asked as they fell into step a few paces behind their wives.

“_We are just waiting for yourself and the other Seventh Chiefs_,” Atholl confirmed. “_The proceedings will be underway shortly_.”

“_I know that you and I have not always seen eye to eye, but today is a great day, Atholl. Today we have the chance to shape the country that Scotland will be for the next one hundred years. We have the chance to choose the kind of people we want to be. We have the chance to choose our own voices._”

“_Aye, my lad_.” Atholl’s face was unreadable as they stepped through the doorway at the top of the stairs. “_We all have a great choice in front of us today_.”

With Elgin and Argyll falling quickly into step behind them, they continued in silence through to the Great Hall, where two Murray clansman were guarding the entranceway.

“_Do you have any weapons to declare?”_ the first guard asked.

Malcolm leant down and pulled his sgihan-dubh from his hose. “_Only my knife_.”

The guard extended his arm. “_Please place it in this basket here._”

Malcolm did as bid, then stepped aside to allow his companions to do the same. Satisfied they had surrendered all their weapons, the guard nodded and addressed them again.

“_Which clans do you represent?”_

_“Murray.”_

_“Campbell.”_

_“Bruce.”_

_“Sutherland.”_

The guards eyes widened. “_I shall announce your presence, my lords_.” He turned quickly, and delivered three firm knocks to the great oak doors, before he and his companion drew them open.

The noise of a hundred voices fell silent as they crossed the threshold into the room. Malcolm held his head high as he made his way to the centre, to the great wooden throne adorned in his tartan; his attendants were already seated behind him. He settled into the throne, and nodded at Perth, who was already sat waiting with his attendants. Atholl, Argyll and Elgin joined them immediately.

“_We are just waiting for Sinclair then?”_ he said to no one in particular as the room descended back into chatter.

“_Aye,_” Atholl replied. _“He is just tending to a small amount of business and will be here presently.”_

“_Good. I’m keen to get underway.”_

As if on cue, there were three more knocks to the door, before the doors were drawn open to reveal the cohort of Sinclairs, a dozen in all. Most of them peeled off to the remaining few seats at the back of the hall, but the man himself and his attendants moved forward to their positions in the centre.

“_Sutherland._” Sinclair nodded towards him. The empty seat between them felt like a chasm, a living reminder of Malcolm’s work. He swallowed and returned the nod.

“_Caithness. My condolences on the loss of your father. He was a formidable man._”

Sinclair nodded absentmindedly. “_Thank you. It is terrible to lose one’s father, no matter their age. I’m sure you sympathise with this sentiment, having so recently lost your own father._”

Something tightened uncomfortably in Malcolm’s stomach.

As he opened his mouth to reply, there were three more knocks to the door. 

He froze; the entire room crashed to a halt in swift succession. One knock to the door of a room where the gathering was sitting signalled the arrival of a member of a clan who wished to observe the proceedings. Two knocks was for any regular Chief or Chieftainess. Three knocks were for the arrival of a Seventh Chief. All six current Seventh Chiefs were already seated, and one of the orders of business for this large gathering was the election of the final Chief to the seat. 

The three knocks sounded again.

Unless the position did not need to be filled.

The three knocks sounded once more.

Malcolm’s blood ran cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was nearly two chapters, but instead it's now one big(-ish) chapter. I hope this makes up for my poor posting record recently <3
> 
> there are now three more chapters left. I can say this with 98% confidence, unlike the _previous_ time I said only three more chapters. yay, more content? _*looks nervously at camera*_
> 
> hopefully now we're all stuck indoors these last chapters will be fairly forthcoming (she says famously...)
> 
> but in all seriousness, I'm scrapping any hint of a formal posting schedule. the chapters will go up as I finish them. I'll do my best to make that asap :)
> 
> I hope you are all happy and healthy; make sure you take care of yourselves over the coming weeks and months. I am always happy to make friends, so if you ever want someone to talk to or just to vent at, you can find me on tumblr and discord, @mintyfreshness on both. gotta stick together at times like this <3
> 
> be kind to yourself and others
> 
> with love and hugs,
> 
> minty xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhh!!! here I go, on my first attempt at a multi-chapter fic! and very excited!!!
> 
> thanks to my alpha reader, the wonderful Tranquility, who helped me nail some of the plot down and get this show on the road
> 
> story title comes from both an Eliza and the Bear song and a poem by Emily Dickinson, a line of which also provides the first chapter's title
> 
> I aim to update weekly on Sundays, but I am a final year uni student so there may be a few delays - I'm grateful for your patience
> 
> comments and constructive criticism always appreciated ❤️
> 
> be kind to yourself and others!
> 
> minty xoxo


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